


A Thousand Cuts

by lettersinpetals



Series: Lifetime [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol as a Coping Mechanism, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, But also, Eventual Happy Ending, Family Drama, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Getting Together, Heartbreak, Heavy Angst, Inarizaki! Sakusa Kiyoomi, Insomnia, It's all a mess, Love Triangles, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Minor Miya Atsumu/Suna Rintarou, Minor Miya Osamu/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Minor Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou, Minor Sakusa Kiyoomi/Ushijima Wakatoshi, Miya Atsumu-centric, Non-Explicit Sex, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Teenage Drama, Underage Sex, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unrequited Love, Weddings, love quadrangles, or actually, sex as a coping mechanism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:55:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 37,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27094666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lettersinpetals/pseuds/lettersinpetals
Summary: “I’m Atsumu! What’s your name?”The boy mumbled out an answer, and because his voice was muffled by his mask, all Atsumu heard was “...Omi.”“Omi?”“Kiyoomi,” the boy said in a much clearer voice.But Atsumu was already attached to the name. “Omi-Omi! Let’s go!” Shamelessly, he grabbed him by the hand and tugged him behind him. He felt responsible for him — the boy clearly needed all the protection and guidance he could get. Atsumu can be his hero.--The story started when the Sakusa family moved into their neighborhood in Amagasaki when they were nine. Atsumu would always remember that he saw Kiyoomi first.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu & Miya Osamu, Miya Atsumu & Suna Rintarou, Miya Atsumu/OC - Relationship, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Osamu & Sakusa Kiyoomi
Series: Lifetime [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1982522
Comments: 274
Kudos: 1165





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This...might not be what you were expecting in the childhood friends au yall keep requesting. It's gonna sting, but yer gonna have to trust me on this. Buckle up, it's gonna span A DECADE. More. I feel like I birthed a child. I swear, it's also very cute.
> 
> I'll be posting in parts (there are three), and I'll be updating the tags as I go. This was betaed by the amazing [Caahs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caahs/pseuds/Caahs). Thank you!

**Prologue**

_Deep breaths_. In and out. In a minute, everything was going to change.

He smoothed down his tux, the satin a comforting touch against his trembling hands. He stared at himself in the mirror, then at the clock, and ordered his legs to move. He was going to have to take that step himself because no one else could do it for him.

With one final breath, he left the dressing room and walked to the garden. It was a peaceful day, accentuated by the cream chiffon hanging on the arbor, the yellow chrysanthemums and white daisies that lined the aisle, and the rustic wooden chairs forming neat rows on the grass. The guests were already settled on their seats and they watched him step up onto the altar. He accepted their stares with as much grace as he could.

He knew why they were staring. He knew he was handsome, of course — he was Miya Atsumu, voted Hottest Athlete for three years straight by a landslide, and as he inches closer to 24 years old, he was still leading the polls. In fact, he was more handsome than ever, if he did say so himself. As he should be.

Because it was his wedding day.

He felt a presence behind him and he turned to look at his best man. Suna looked pained, mournful, and Atsumu was suddenly on edge.

“What is it?” he asked.

Suna leaned in and whispered, “He’s not here.”

His stomach dropped. “Where…”

“Osamu just found out and told me. Tsumu, Omi’s leaving. He’s catching a train to the airport.”

He croaked out, “Going where?”

“I don’t know,” Suna said, frustrated. “What’s it matter? He’s going _away from you_.”

Atsumu shut his eyes briefly, taking more deep breaths, trying to center himself. “I can’t do anything about it now.”

Suna looked like he wanted to protest, but they were interrupted by the sound of the classic wedding march.

He turned to watch his bride walk towards him. She was beautiful. This was their big day — this was supposed to be their happiest day. He faked a smile and didn’t even have to force out the tears, because it was the easiest thing to do to let them out. He felt like he was dying. He felt like he was falling apart.

This was a mistake.

He wanted to call off the wedding. He wanted to put an end to the nightmare. He wanted to run away, to turn back time, back to the very beginning.

He wanted to go back to when they knew nothing of true pain and irreversible mistakes — back before life became too much of a rollercoaster they couldn’t keep up with. He wanted to go back to the very start.

But it was too late.

They’ve run out of time. 

**Chapter 1**

It started, of all things, with a new boy in town.

New things were a rarity in the sleepy neighborhood the Miyas resided in. They lived in the same house their ancestors built, right at the edges of Amagasaki. It was a small city with a population of 400,000, but in their corner of the world, it all felt a lot smaller. Nothing really happened in Amagasaki.

Until the Sakusas moved in.

They were the talk of the town before they even arrived — married doctors who transferred from Tokyo to Kobe? It was exciting. Why they chose Amagasaki as their city of residence was a mystery, but everyone was excited to see them. However, they ended up being more of a recluse than they expected. Nobody caught sight of the elusive couple and their only child for at least a week since they moved in.

But Atsumu would always remember that he saw _him_ first.

It was a Saturday, a day with no consequence. He and his twin Osamu biked over to the store right outside their neighborhood to buy some snacks so they had something to munch on while playing “Dragon Quest.” It was busier in that area, because it was near the train station, but at nine years old, they were proudly independent.

Goodies in hand, they were about to return home when Atsumu remembered. “Osamu, I forgot to buy my drink!” He wanted to try the banana flavor of this drink he liked because he always drank the peach one.

“Fine, hurry up,” his twin said, unbothered. He straddled his bike and placed their purchases in the basket between his bike handles.

Atsumu abandoned his own bike and ran around the corner back to the store. It only took a couple minutes before he was walking out the exit, clutching a paper bag.

And it was there that he saw him: a little boy with curly black hair looking from left to right, seemingly distressed. He had his back to Atsumu, so he couldn’t see his face, but it was clear from the way his shoulders were shaking that he was crying. His interest was piqued.

“Why are you crying?”

The boy turned to look at him. His nose and mouth were covered by a face mask, and his dark eyes were wet. In his hands were his own bag of goodies.

“I’m lost. I don’t know how to get home,” the boy said, voice wobbly.

Atsumu put his hands on his waist. “Well, how did you get here?”

“I walked.”

“How far did you walk?”

His brows furrowed. “Dunno…”

How could he not know? This city was small and perfectly safe. Kids younger than Atsumu could navigate it easily. Was he new?

And then a lightbulb switched on in his head. _He’s new. He’s the new boy._

Keeping his excitement down, he said, “Well, you probably live around here, I live nearby too. If you can’t find your house, wanna go to mine?”

The boy studied him. Then, surprisingly, he shrugged and said, “Okay.”

He couldn’t help but grin. “I’m Atsumu! What’s your name?”

The boy mumbled out an answer, and because his voice was muffled by his mask, all Atsumu heard was “...Omi.”

“Omi?”

“Kiyoomi,” the boy said in a much clearer voice.

But Atsumu was already attached to the name. “Omi-Omi! Let’s go!” Shamelessly, he grabbed him by the hand and tugged him behind him. He felt responsible for him — the boy clearly needed all the protection and guidance he could get. Atsumu can be his hero.

The boy tried to worm his hand out of Atsumu’s grip, but gave up after a while, and simply followed. When they arrived where his brother was waiting, he declared, “Osamu, I made a friend!” 

Osamu looked up, puzzled and skeptical.

“Look, Omi, that’s my twin, Osamu. Osamu, this is Omi!”

“Kiyoomi,” the boy tried to correct again.

“Whatdya buy?” Osamu asked his new friend.

“Candies.” Kiyoomi had a very straightforward way of speaking, Atsumu noticed. He decided it was because he was speaking standard Japanese, though he seemed to have no trouble understanding Kansai-ben.

“Cool,” Osamu said. “We got some, too. Let’s go home and see what we got.”

Atsumu led Kiyoomi to his bike and hopped on. Then he patted at the spot in front of him. “Sit here. Gimme your bag.”

Frowning doubtfully, Kiyoomi obeyed, squeezing into the small space. And then, bracing his arms on either side of Kiyoomi to reach the handles, Atsumu pushed off from the ground and on they went. He heard Kiyoomi gasp before him and he grinned.

He biked across the neighborhood he’d known all his life. There was the house with the bright pink car parked in front, and the house with the colorful garden, and the house with the English bulldog. Nothing ever really changes around here. He turned left to their own street, which he thought he could navigate even while he’s asleep. He liked their village. It was peaceful, filled with kind people.

But when he put the brakes on in front of their house, he misjudged the additional weight, and he and Kiyoomi came crashing down on the ground.

Osamu burst into laughter. “Stupid Atsumu!”

He dragged himself up and patted himself down. Kiyoomi was on his hands and knees, giving Atsumu a hurt and accusing glance. His eyes were wet again.

Feeling guilty, he helped Kiyoomi up and gently brushed the dirt off him. “Sorry, Omi-kun. Let’s go in now.”

When they got inside, he heard his mother say, “I heard a crash, what happened?”

“Me and Omi-Omi just fell, Okaasan.”

She paused. “Omi-Omi?”

Atsumu could feel Kiyoomi clinging to the back of his shirt, peeking out from behind him when his name was called.

“Oh, dear. Who’s this?” His mother walked closer to him and crouched down. “Hello there. I’m Miya Shiko. What’s your name?”

“Sakusa Kiyoomi.” So Atsumu was right!

“Oh! Sakusa! The doctors who just moved in the other street! Am I right?”

He turned to see Kiyoomi nod.

“I found him outside the store, he was lost and all alone,” Atsumu informed his mother.

“So you took him home?” She shook her head. “No matter. Where are your parents, Kiyoomi-kun?”

“Work.”

“I suppose they would always be on call, even on weekends,” she said thoughtfully. “Hmm. Well, stay here, and then when they’re about to return home, we’ll take you back. Just tell us when. How about that?”

Kiyoomi nodded again, looking more eager. Atsumu bounced on his heels in excitement.

“Wonderful. I’ll prepare something for you to eat. Run along now. Atsumu, be nice to our guest, hmm?”

“Of course,” he said, offended. “Let’s go, Omi-Omi, I’ll show you to our room.”

Their room was rather messy. There were clothes on the floor, manga issues dumped on a desk, and video game consoles abandoned on the floor. He shared a bunk bed with Osamu, and his twin was already sitting at the bottom, snacks strewn on the mattress. He looked up when they arrived and said, “Took you long enough. C’mon I wanna try these new flavors.”

Atsumu was clutching Kiyoomi’s purchases. “Let’s all share everything.”

Kiyoomi carefully sat at the edge of the bed, looking uncomfortable. Well, that was only normal. They were strangers to him after all.

They tried to fix that by chattering to him about anything and everything. At some point their mother arrived with chocolate spread sandwiches. Atsumu was fascinated by the way Kiyoomi peeled apart the bread and nibbled on one first, his mask lowered down to his chin. He took the chance to study him — he was rather pale, if you asked him, and he had two curious-looking moles on his forehead. He had eyebrows that looked like caterpillars, and like caterpillars, they had a life of their own. It was his eyebrows that told Atsumu that he was confused.

“Did you understand what Samu just said?”

“No,” Kiyoomi admitted. “I’m not very good at Kansai-ben, yet. When you talk fast, I don’t understand.”

“Oh. Okay. Samu, talk slower,” he ordered.

“Yeah, whatever. We can teach you, too,” his twin said.

After a while, he couldn’t bear not asking any longer. “Say, what’s this for?” He poked at the mask.

“It’s to keep me safe,” he replied. Well, he knew that much, but he prodded anyway. What was he afraid of?

“Safe from what?”

“From viruses. I don’t wanna get sick.”

Atsumu tilted his head. “Why would you get sick?”

“Yeah, it’s not flu season anymore. It’s the middle of March,” Osamu pointed out.

Kiyoomi frowned. “I just don’t want to be sick.”

“You’re being silly.” Atsumu reached out and Kiyoomi moved his head back. “Seriously, it’s fine, you’ll see.”

Kiyoomi glared at him and pushed his hand away. “I’ll still wear this later, don’t take it off.”

“I just wanna show you that you’re worried about nothing, doesn’t that feel uncomfy?” Then, quick as a flash, he tugged at Kiyoomi’s mask until it was off his face. One of the elastic bands even snapped off.

Kiyoomi stared at the ruined mask in Atsumu’s hand, and then up to his face.

“See! Isn’t that better? You’re not gonna get sick,” Atsumu said knowingly.

And then Kiyoomi did something that shocked Atsumu to the core. He lifted his hand and smashed his uneaten piece of chocolate-covered bread right on Atsumu’s face.

For a moment he was frozen, confused. Did his new friend really do that?

And then Osamu howled in laughter and in a rush of anger, Atsumu tackled Kiyoomi. The scuffle his mother running into the room to pry them apart. The rest of the afternoon was spent in annoyed silence as the three of them played video games, only broken by Osamu’s occasional guffaws.

And that was the start of his lifelong complicated relationship with Sakusa Kiyoomi.

**Chapter 2**

If he tried to track down where everything went wrong, he would never be able to come up with just one moment. His life was a series of mistakes, one following another, until it turned into a web of regret touching every corner of his soul.

But Atsumu would always, always blame Osamu.

It was a strange thing, having a twin. On one hand, you had someone who’ll go through everything with you. You automatically had a best friend, a companion, a supporter. But that also meant you automatically had an arch-nemesis, a clone, a rival.

When they were young, it was amusing when people would mistake one for the other; as he grew older, it grated on him. He wanted to be his own self, not half of a whole. Even looking at his twin was disconcerting sometimes — since Osamu styled his hair the opposite of his, it was akin to looking at a mirror. The only difference was Osamu’s eyes were steel gray while his were honey brown.

When they hit their teens, he got his wish. But he didn’t know if it was any better, being identified as the “troublesome twin,” while Osamu got the title of “nice twin.” He was the “arrogant twin,” while Osamu was the “sweet twin.”

Despite that though, Osamu had always been his constant. Their mother once told them they shared a crib, because they cried when they were separated. Growing up, they shared phases and obsessions, be it a particular candy that they simply had to eat every day, or a video game they stayed up all night playing, or perhaps most importantly, volleyball.

He couldn’t help but love Osamu; their blood and their bond demanded it. And in the beginning, when life was easy, it was a no-brainer to do so. Of course he loved his brother who was with him every step of the way. He loved him because every time he yelled “Race ya!” before taking off without another word, Osamu would be at his side in a blink. Every time he wanted to try out something new, Osamu would always join him so he didn’t have to be so scared. They knew each other like the back of their hands. There were no mysteries, no secrets between them, and nothing they do could ever surprise the other.

But life wasn’t always easy.

The night he got engaged, he called up his twin.

“Tsumu.”

“Yo, Samu. I’m engaged.”

“You’re _what_?”

He rolled his eyes. “Engaged, dumbass. There’s no date, yet, wedding might not be for a while. But it’s probably gonna be all over the internet soon, so I’m telling ya.”

“Well, all I can say is she deserves better.”

“Shut up, Samu.”

“Who else knows?”

“I haven’t called anyone else,” he admitted.

“Wow, you actually told me first.”

“Yeah, well, you’re my twin.” He didn’t know why he did, honestly. He supposed bad habits are hard to break.

There was a pause in their conversation. Then carefully, Osamu said, “Have you told Omi?”

He stared into space. “He’ll find out soon.”

Osamu sighed. “Look, Tsumu, I know I have no right but you should talk to him.”

He did know that. He knew he was being an immature coward. But an old anger stirred at Osamu’s words. “You’re right.”

“Oh?”

“You have no right.”

He hung up.

**Chapter 3**

He learned that Kiyoomi needed him the second time he saw him cry. Atsumu was ten and Kiyoomi was nine, and he’d just gotten pushed to the dirt by a playground bully. Shocked and in pain, his eyes welled up with tears and he gazed up at Atsumu for help. Atsumu always liked to think it was because he succeeded in becoming Kiyoomi’s hero regardless of their rocky relationship.

He stepped in immediately, almost impulsively, and shoved the bully right back. No one else would stand up to the guy, but Atsumu couldn’t care less about the status quo — he protected what was his, and Kiyoomi was his the moment he found him lost in the street.

When the bully was gone, Atsumu picked Kiyoomi up, as usual, and patted his face mask back into place. “There. You’re fine.”

Kiyoomi just nodded, tears nowhere in sight, looking for all the world like he was over it. He was good at that. Osamu liked to tease him about his perpetual bored expression, and this quirk of his was funny sometimes, but annoying most of the time. Kiyoomi was such a strange child. Such an immovable child.

But he was also just a vulnerable child. He didn’t always make sense to Atsumu and that was fine; he loved him all the same. He was not like any person he’d ever known — Kiyoomi took some coaxing, some sweet talking before he’d open up, and there was always the danger he’d snap closed again and you’d be left injured. Sometimes dealing with him was like taking one step forward, two steps back. Everytime he thought he was getting somewhere, he’d say something to offend him and suddenly he was Public Enemy Number One.

He liked the most boring things: puzzles and umeboshi and birds. And he disliked almost everything else — especially germs, and dirt, and anything he thought would get him sick.

In all honesty, Kiyoomi was troublesome. But Atsumu always made the effort to adjust for him anyway. It was always the best feeling when Kiyoomi would slip his hand into Atsumu’s and follow him without complaint, or when he would agree to something as long as Atsumu would be there. When he and Osamu finally coaxed him into riding a skateboard, it was Atsumu’s hand he was clutching while Osamu slowly pushed from behind.

And maybe it was the months of growing up that Atsumu had over him, but he always felt protective over him. He would never ever let Kiyoomi fall, never.

Kiyoomi was his most special person. He was prickly and moody and grumpy, but his appearance in their life was like a breath of fresh air regardless. He slipped into place like the puzzle pieces he always loved to play with.

Which was why Atsumu was understandably upset when Kiyoomi poked his tongue out at him one day and declared, “Osamu is nicer. Osamu is my best friend.”

Perhaps Kiyoomi would never understand the impact that had left in his young heart — perhaps he himself didn’t, either. At the time he simply crossed his arms and let the tears flow, treating Kiyoomi and Osamu to cold, bitter silence. After half an hour of this, Kiyoomi eventually sat beside him and hugged him and said, “But you’re still my favorite person, I think.”

He didn’t ask how the two statements could coexist. He was just glad to hear it because he needed Kiyoomi, too.

**Chapter 4**

Growing up, he and Osamu had plenty of passing interests. They skated, they biked, they collected bugs, they played badminton, they played soccer.

But volleyball was different.

The sport sank its claws on Atsumu first, when he first watched a match on television. The next time a match was on, he dragged Osamu to watch with him and they both decided it was the coolest thing ever. They bugged their parents for a ball, watched every tape they could find, scoured bookstores for sports magazines and quickly got attached to their favorite players.

It wasn’t until Kiyoomi arrived in town that their parents deemed that it wasn’t just something they’d forget about in a month or two. One day, in the spring before fourth grade, they finally handed them a ball and said, “Go play with Kiyoomi-kun.”

They shouted an affirmative and ran out the door, not bothering with their bikes. It was a short walk from their house to Kiyoomi’s — at the end of their street they only needed to turn left and then go straight ahead. Like them, the Sakusas had a small front yard, and a backyard. The house was simple but it had room for children to run around in. It was the perfect suburban home.

They dragged a reluctant Kiyoomi from his bed and forced him to play with them. He didn’t seem like he particularly liked it or hated it. It was just something for him to do. But the thing about Kiyoomi was that once you get him started on something, he couldn’t stop until he finished it. Atsumu was counting on that.

“What do you think? Is it fun?” Osamu asked Kiyoomi when they were sitting on the grass after. Atsumu was pleased by the way Kiyoomi didn’t even blink at the prospect of dirt anymore.

He just shrugged. “It’s fine.”

Later that night, he and Osamu chattered the ears off their parents until they gave in and said they’ll sign the three of them up for a volleyball workshop.

It was there they met someone who’d later end up becoming a bigger part of their lives: Ojiro Aran.

He was a tall, foreign-looking kid, and they were instantly fascinated. They were jealous of his cool name and decided from then on: Atsumu was Tsumu, and Osamu was Samu. Atsumu also developed a great big interest in becoming a setter, having been enlightened by one of the instructors who told one of the kids, “I’ll let you hit it.”

Kiyoomi didn’t seem particularly inclined to join their conversation because he was busy hiding behind Atsumu, as was his habit. It seemed like he was intimidated by Aran.

It was also there in that workshop that they figured out why it was sometimes hard to receive Kiyoomi’s hits.

“It’s the spin,” Aran commented.

“The _spin_ ,” Atsumu and Osamu said in simultaneous realization.

Then Atsumu exclaimed, “Your wrist!”

“My wrist,” Kiyoomi agreed. He bent one until the tips of his fingers grazed his forearm and Aran’s face scrunched up with disgust.

Atsumu’s thoughts were racing with the possibilities. This particular quirk could set Kiyoomi apart. He could be the _best_. Atsumu wanted to help him get there.

“You totally have to use that,” Atsumu finally said, intensely. “You can be the bestest spiker ever!”

Kiyoomi just stared at him in that impassive way he liked to do, and Atsumu knew he didn’t have such big dreams. Not yet. But if there was one thing he learned about Kiyoomi was that he would eventually always follow. It was just a matter of time.

They had time.

**Chapter 5**

_I ran out of time._

This was the thought that was running through his mind on the night before his wedding. He was having cold feet — hell his feet were so damn cold, he was a little surprised to remember it wasn’t winter yet. His entire body was stiff, but that was due to the shock, not the cold.

Suna chugged the bottle of wine he’d been nursing, then wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “Shit.”

He couldn’t even speak.

“So, you know it’s not too late, right? You can still change your mind.”

Atsumu turned his head to stare at his best friend. “Yes, it is, Rin.”

“Atsumu. After all this time…”

“It’s _too late_. I can’t get off this train, Rin. And there’s just too many shitty things to process —” He groaned, clawing at his hair. “Why _now_?”

“So what, you’re gonna marry her?”

“Of course I’m gonna marry her!”

“Damn it, Tsumu!” Suna slammed a palm on the table. Startled, he could only stare. Suna never got angry, never. “You can’t just settle. And she deserves better than a husband who’ll always love her second.”

“She could make me happy. She _does_ make me happy.”

“That’s fucking selfish, and you know it. And I know you could be happy with her, Tsumu, but I also know you could be happier. This...this just doesn’t feel right.”

He rubbed his hands on his face. “Look, Rin, she was there for me through it all. She _saved_ me. She makes me want to be better. Isn’t that good?”

“It is, it really is. And maybe if you got married two years ago, I’d support you all the way. But things are different now, don’t you see? Things have _changed_.”

Atsumu slumped, pressing his forehead on the table. “When am I going to be free of him?”

“That’s not what you want, and you know it.” Suna sighed. “You know, I really don’t understand, Tsumu. You had all the time in the world. You had a goddamn lifetime. Why aren’t you and Omi _together_?”

How could he even begin to explain? “We just keep missing chances. I don’t know, Rin. It’s just not meant to be. I’m getting married tomorrow. Everything's in place, everything’s planned, that’s _it_.”

Suna stared at him. “You are the stupidest person on the planet,” He shook his head. “Whatever, I don’t care. We’re too damn old for me to still be taking care of you. If this explodes in your face, at least I’ll get front row seats.”

With that, Suna got up and walked out the room, leaving him with memories that were demanding to be relived. Suna was right, he had a lifetime’s worth of them. And it looked like they were going to haunt him until the next.

**Chapter 6**

When they were eleven, Atsumu dislocated his elbow, and Kiyoomi had to get stitches on his calf. These were perhaps the worst physical damage they had done to each other, and they had caused a _lot_.

When it came to Atsumu, Kiyoomi had a hair-trigger temper, for reasons nobody could quite understand. Atsumu just seemed to always get under his skin — he knew just how to tease him of course, and he’d admit to saying the worst things at the worst times. He knew he grated on Kiyoomi’s nerves but he couldn’t help but find delight in saying, “You’re so prickly, Omi-Omi,” or simply, “Sea urchin Omi!” And Kiyoomi, who’d get so frustrated that his words get tangled up in his mouth, would just let out a frustrated scream and attack him.

Their fights tended to be explosive and damaging in a way his fights with Osamu never were. He and Osamu coud beat each other up, sure, but those were just boyish scuffles, brotherly disagreements. They were normal, expected even. His fights with Kiyoomi, on the other hand, always shook everyone to the core, including them.

Kiyoomi had stabbed Atsumu with a pencil once, right on the thigh — he still had a lead-colored spot there, which he still liked to sulk about from time to time.

And there was the time he shoved Kiyoomi in anger while they were walking down the street. 

Atsumu knew he could be sensitive and conscious about the most ridiculous things. He did know that, and at that point, Kiyoomi knew that too. Kiyoomi knew most of what set him off, but there were times where he was so _petty_. Kiyoomi had said something about Osamu’s gray eyes being more interesting than Atsumu’s brown, which he _knew_ would irritate Atsumu, but he said it anyway.

His push sent Kiyoomi tumbling to the ground, hard, hand smacking the sidewalk when he landed and leg grazing an errant piece of wood that just so happened to have a nail sticking out of it. The impact looked painful, and Kiyoomi received a long, nasty gash running down his calf. The memory was traumatizing for Atsumu, but he remembered that there was a lot of blood and that he cried harder than Kiyoomi did, the latter gazing at his tears in confusion.

Kiyoomi ended up receiving five stitches and some anti-tetanus shots. Osamu was pale and looked like he was in shock, but he held Kiyoomi’s hand the entire time they were in the hospital. Atsumu stared at their clasped hands, guilty and confused.

And then there was the time Kiyoomi’s temper snapped clean in half while Atsumu was teasing him. To this day, it surprised him that Kiyoomi was set off by such a random remark — something silly about his moles. But it clearly irritated him and he kicked Atsumu in his side, causing him to tumble off Kiyoomi’s bed and straight onto the floor. There was a truly terrifying pop in his elbow, and he was unprepared for the pain that shot up his arm. He screamed. Osamu jumped off the bed and checked on him before running out the room, yelling, “Kenji-san!”

He started to hyperventilate and Kiyoomi finally peeked down at him, eyes wide and scared.

And then Kiyoomi started crying.

Kiyoomi’s father, Kenji, rushed in — it was Wednesday after school, they were lucky — and what followed was something Atsumu never wanted to live through again. He snapped his elbow back in place, the quick procedure punctuated with another shocked scream of pain.

Strangely enough, Kiyoomi’s tears caused Atsumu’s panic to ease. As they were preparing to take him to the hospital, Atsumu patted his hand clumsily. “It’s a’ight, Omi-Omi. It doesn’t really hurt anymore.”

Still crying, he hugged Atsumu in the side, seeking comfort. “Atsu,” he hiccuped.

Atsumu patted him on the head. “I don’t really think your moles are ugly.”

“I can’t believe you two,” Osamu said, shaken. “You hafta stop doing this.”

Kiyoomi got a stern talking-to from his father about the consequences of his actions, his normally warm brown eyes suddenly hard and furious. He was placed under house arrest for an entire month.

Not that it mattered. He and Osamu still visited every day, his elbow encased in a cast. They continued their day to day life as if it was never interrupted.

No one apologized — no one ever did. No one ever needed to.

**Chapter 7**

For all their disagreements though, Atsumu always thought he and Kiyoomi were cut from the same cloth. When he was younger, the word _‘soulmates’_ whispered in his mind. It was silly and cheesy so he banished it the moment he grew half a mind. His younger self had no idea what he was thinking. Surely, it was all in the platonic sense.

He could still recall one training camp back when they were in middle school. Atsumu absolutely loved training camps, because playing against different schools was a challenge, but it irritated him that his teammates didn’t have the same drive to win. Even Osamu sometimes didn’t put on a hundred percent. But he could tell by the glint in Kiyoomi’s eyes that he understood.

“Hey, Tsumu,” Osamu said one day as they were eating lunch. “The team hates you.”

“So?” Atsumu said, mid-chew. Kiyoomi wrinkled his nose at him and he rolled his eyes. Kiyoomi was so stuck-up sometimes. Must be his Tokyo upbringing.

Osamu didn’t bother answering him and instead looked at Kiyoomi. “You could stand to be nicer too, Omi.”

“Why?” Kiyoomi looked at Osamu blankly.

Osamu stared at the both of them then sighed. “I’ve decided I don’t ever wanna be like the two of you. I’m gonna be _nice_ to folks and live in peace with them.”

Kiyoomi and Atsumu looked at each other, silently wondering what was up with Osamu now. He’s always been prone to being contrary, especially when it came to Atsumu.

But it didn’t matter — it was all temporary, just a milestone. In another couple years, they’ll move on to a bigger and better team.

He had no patience for scrubs. He wanted the best, and nothing but the best.

And the way Kiyoomi slammed the ball home with the delayed tempo attack they practiced over and over the past months? The best.

**Chapter 8**

There was a place they used to go to that they simply called the Cemetery.

Atsumu first stumbled upon it after his grandmother died of diabetes. At the young age of nine, death wasn’t a very easy concept to grasp and it didn’t sink in until they were at the graveyard. In a fit of emotion, he ran away, crying, wanting to be alone.

Like many cemeteries, this one was attached to a temple. Atsumu ran past it, and found solace in a pocket of grass and trees. He sat on the ground, pressing his back against a large rock, and sniffled.

His peace was disrupted by the appearance of Osamu, and at his heels, Kiyoomi.

“Stupid Atsumu, don’t run away like that,” Osamu told him. His face was also wet with tears. They both sat beside him.

Kiyoomi was uncomprehending in the face of loss, but he understood that Atsumu and Osamu were grieving. He comforted them with clumsy hugs and head pats and offered them his favorite candy — a big sacrifice. Fondly, Atsumu ruffled his hair and told him to just eat it. He did, staring at them wide-eyed. Then he touched Atsumu’s face. “But Atsu doesn’t cry.”

“Yeah he does, I’ve seen it,” Osamu said.

Atsumu wiped his face, feeling self-conscious. He was the eldest of them, he should be the strong one. His parents told him he was born seven minutes ahead of Osamu and he took that extremely seriously. “Let’s go back in a bit, our parents will be looking for us.”

“Later,” Osamu said. “This place is pretty cool.”

They all agreed it was to be their secret hiding place, and vowed to return. They did, repeatedly over the years. They’d bike their way there, because it had a scenic route, and they’d visit their grandmother’s grave before heading to their tiny little spot.

Back then they had so much time. They were in their own little world. Nothing could touch them.

They stopped going to the Cemetery when they were eighteen.

**Chapter 9**

He knew he was in love with Kiyoomi by the time they were fifteen. Gone was the little boy who used to hide behind Atsumu, who looked to him for saving — they were young men now, smack in the middle of torturous puberty.

The years were good to Atsumu and Osamu. They got taller like they always hoped (and naturally they managed to keep up with each other in height), and they grew into their features — they were still a bit gangly, still a bit awkward, but everyone always said they were growing up to be “handsome young men.” Atsumu preened and secretly agreed.

But Kiyoomi got even _taller_ than them. Nothing significant, just a couple of inches really, but it was enough of a bucket of cold water to Atsumu’s face: they were not children any longer.

And Kiyoomi was really, really good-looking.

Or perhaps it was just him who thought so. Unlike them, Kiyoomi suffered from acne, to his utmost disgust. He always sulked and moped about it and unfairly snapped at them for “not getting pimples even though you’re both gross and I’m always clean.” His hair was ridiculous, because he never liked getting haircuts, so his curls fell around his face. He was a mess. Atsumu thought, _He’s beautiful._

And then, _Oh, shit, am I gay?_

The realization set off a crisis that resulted in two weeks of avoiding Kiyoomi _and_ Osamu, as he conducted research by reading up articles on the internet and watching porn. After that filthy endeavor, he’d come off with the decision that he was bisexual.

He wondered how he should tell people. Did he have to? He at least had to tell Osamu. He hesitated on the thought of telling Kiyoomi — what did he want to accomplish there? They were only fifteen, just because he might have a crush on his best friend didn’t mean he wanted a relationship. In fact, that was probably a bad idea, right? They were friends. They were teammates. He can’t be homo.

He decided to tell them over the weekend once he’d mustered enough courage. They had a training camp to go through first.

But his plans — and subsequently, his world — were shattered when he caught Kiyoomi and Ushijima Wakatoshi in a liplock one night in camp.

They didn’t even notice him at first. He watched as Kiyoomi — prickly, moody, untouchable Kiyoomi — grasped Ushijima’s broad shoulders and pulled him closer. He’d only ever kicked Atsumu away from him before, and that was just due to proximity. When they were children he was more open to hugs, and Atsumu got away with cuddles when they were in their tween years, but now? There was a space between them that society dictated was proper.

(But there were times, when it was just the two of them, that the space seemed easy to bridge. The awareness prickled at Atsumu, but he always seemed to be the only one affected.)

He was apparently very wrong about two things. The first was that it wasn’t just him who thought Kiyoomi was good-looking, of course not. It was silly to think so. The second was that it wasn’t just a crush.

If it was, then his heart wouldn’t feel like it was breaking.

He stared at them, unable to look away, until Kiyoomi felt his presence and jumped away. When he spotted Atsumu, his face went from flushed to pale. “Atsu —”

But he was already walking away.

The bus ride back to Hyogo was painfully long and silent. He didn’t know where to place his scattered feelings, most of which were overridden by anger.

Because it was eventually clear to Atsumu that Osamu _knew_.

Knew about Kiyoomi’s newfound sexualty, knew about his crush on Ushijima fucking Wakatoshi, their _rival_.

Atsumu had noticed something was up — something shifted in their dynamic the past year but it was unnoticeable at first, and so easy to brush off. It started with Kiyoomi and Osamu suddenly shutting up when he returned from the bathroom, or wherever it was that he came from. Then they would all agree to meet up in the Cemetery, but whenever Atsumu arrived the two of them always looked like they’d been there for quite some time. Slowly but surely, Atsumu felt like he was being edged out of the circle, but that was impossible right? They were a trio. They couldn’t get rid of him even if they tried.

But Osamu and Kiyoomi’s slowly growing friendship grated at Atsumu. Sure, Kiyoomi always said Osamu was his best friend but Atsumu never felt out of place before. He held on the “most favorite person” title with truly idiotic desperation, but now he thought he was losing even that. Perhaps it was never even true at all. After all, what did he ever contribute to Kiyoomi’s life other than a constant source of annoyance and pain?

By the time they arrived back in school, Atsumu was raring to go. He stormed his way home without looking back.

He could hear Kiyoomi and Osamu hissing at each other behind him and it angered him further.

When they reached the part of the road where they must part, Kiyoomi began, “Atsu —”

“Don’t fucking say a word to me right now, Omi.”

“Fucking fine,” he snapped back.

Osamu just sighed.

They parted ways.

Later that night, when they were settled in their beds, Osamu said, “He just didn’t know how to tell you. He was scared.”

The fuck did he have to be scared of Atsumu for? When was Kiyoomi ever scared of _him_? Voice thick, he asked, “When did he tell _you_?”

There was silence for a while. Then Osamu said, “Last year.”

He figured. But the confirmation was no less painful.

Was he really so despicable that the two most important people in his life wouldn’t tell him something of such importance?

Did he even matter to them? They seemed to be content enough just by themselves.

“It wasn’t my secret to tell,” Osamu said.

He pretended not to hear. He slept poorly that night.

Atsumu avoided Osamu and Kiyoomi at school. It was difficult because he and Kiyoomi were in the same class, and the three of them had practice together with the rest of the Inarizaki High Volleyball Club, but he stopped eating lunch with them. He started bugging Aran — who they’d been delighted to see when they first applied for the team — in his classroom. The first time he did that, Aran just sighed and said, “Fighting again?”

When he kept coming, he frowned and said, “Okay, this is going on for too long. What happened?”

Their fellow club member and Aran’s classmate, Kita Shinsuke, looked over. “What’s going on with you three now?”

“Nothing,” he insisted. “We’re just having a fight.”

He also started purposely staying back after practice so he wouldn’t have to walk home with Kiyoomi and Osamu. One day, one of their middle blockers and Osamu’s classmate, Suna Rintarou, said, “Alright, what’s going on?”

Atsumu paused from where he was placing volleyballs in the basket. “Huh?”

Suna gestured with the net he’d just rolled up and was carrying in his arms. “The three of you are usually inseparable but now you’re not talking.”

“We’re just having a fight,” he explained again.

“Hmm. Feels kinda different from your previous ones.”

The team had witnessed countless incidents involving the three of them — at first it was just him and Osamu, and it alarmed them at first, because of how violent it had gotten. After one too many times of this, they accepted it as normal. But when he and Kiyoomi started going at it, well — that was another round of shock for them. Kiyoomi was supposedly the sensible one, and he really usually was. But while he and Atsumu were like cats and dogs growing up, now they were like a tiger and a wolf going at it, claws out, fangs bared. They always walked away wounded.

This time shouldn't be different, but it was.

“Yeah,” he finally said. It was all he could say.

“I’m sure it will be fine,” Suna said. “I don’t really know you three that well yet, but I can’t really imagine you guys apart. It’s weird.”

He and Suna walked out of campus together, idly chatting. He was glad for it — it pulled him out of the storm inside of him, reminded him there were people outside of the three of them. He’d been too complacent with the company he kept. Perhaps there was room for more.

Before he and Suna parted ways — they were going in different directions though the distance wasn’t significant — Atsumu said, “Hey. Thanks. You’re not so bad.”

“Gee, thanks,” Suna said drily.

He thought he might like this dude. He appraised him for a while. Suna had narrow grayish-yellow eyes that were too shrewd and clever for his own comfort, but he had that deadpan attitude and dry humor he appreciated. He was tall and he was a skilled volleyball player, even though his hair was rather weird.

He announced, “We should be friends.”

“What an honor,” Suna said sarcastically. But then he pulled out his phone and handed it over. “Put your number in.”

He did. He went home feeling lighter.

It took about a week before Atsumu could look at Kiyoomi in the face, and another few days before he would talk to him normally. One afternoon, after club practice, Atsumu caught him alone and demanded, “So you’re gay then?”

“Yes,” Kiyoomi said defiantly, ready for a fight.

“And Osamu knew this whole time?”

“Yes.”

Atsumu scoffed. “No wonder you two always acted like you had a secret. I thought maybe I was imagining me being sidelined but —” he laughed bitterly.

Something like regret softened Kiyoomi’s face, but Atsumu didn’t let him speak.

He bit out, “And what, you’re fucking dating Ushiwaka?”

“So what if I am?” Kiyoomi shot back, angry again, just like that.

It incensed him further. “He’s the fucking enemy, Omi. And he lives in Tokyo!”

Kiyoomi dragged a hand down his face. “We aren’t _dating,_ we aren’t ever going to _be_ dating. We just wanted to try it!”

“What, kissing?” Atsumu sneered. “You didn’t have to go to him, or all the way to fucking Tokyo for that.”

Before he let his words run away from him again, Atsumu whirled around and stormed away.

He heard Kiyoomi let out a noise of frustration, before he stomped away, too.

They went home separately again that afternoon. But the next day, it was like the past two weeks never happened. They went to school together, and went home together, and ate lunch together, only this time they had Suna.

Funny how that happened.

Still, Atsumu couldn’t help the way he held Kiyoomi at arm’s length from then on. There was suddenly a wall between them, and Atsumu had to admit he became a little bit more careless with his words around him, a little less thoughtful, a little bit...off. Maybe even a little mean. He regretted it sometimes, when Kiyoomi’s expression would melt to that of hurt, which reminded him too much of a lost eight-year-old that had immediately wormed himself into his heart. But most of the time he didn’t. He felt like an injured animal lashing out. Kiyoomi didn’t deserve it, he knew he didn’t deserve it, but he couldn’t help himself.

There was a distance between him and Osamu, too. Neither of them apologized. Most days, they were fine. But when it came to the subject of Kiyoomi, they were one careless word away from going at it. He was their kryptonite.

Just what kind of monster did they let into their lives?

**Chapter 10**

The idea came to him one lazy Sunday morning. Spurred by the need to further be separated from his twin, Atsumu declared, “I’m changing my hair.”

“Eh?” Osamu said from his bed below. “How?”

“I was thinking of bleaching it blonde.”

Osamu hummed. “Interesting...I wanna do it, too.”

He clenched his jaw in irritation. He was doing this to have his own identity, damn it.

“But I think I want gray,” Osamu continued.

He considered it. That didn’t sound bad. Blonde for him, gray for Osamu. The colors would match their eyes. Their grandmother used to say Atsumu was like the sun, and Osamu was like the moon; this felt right.

Inspired, he sat up and scaled down the stairs of their bunk bed. “Alright, let’s go.”

“Where?” Osamu stared at him.

“To the store, to buy the stuff.”

“Do you even know what stuff?”

“Uh...right. Let’s Google it.”

After researching for an hour, they left the house with a list of things to buy. As they were boarding their bikes — which were much bigger now — Osamu said, “We can go to Omi’s after, he can do it for us.”

“Hmm.” That didn’t sound like a bad idea, even though his stomach twisted at the thought of seeing him. It hasn’t been long since their big fight, and things haven’t had the chance to go back to the way they were. Atsumu didn’t think it was possible anymore. He hasn’t even told him, or Osamu that he himself was bisexual. After the shit they pulled, he wasn’t particularly inclined to. But it wasn’t like he could avoid Kiyoomi. So he said, “Yeah, fine.”

It didn’t take long until they were knocking on the Sakusa household’s door. Kiyoomi’s mother, Kanna, greeted them with a small smile. “Hello, boys. He’s in his room. Moping, if you ask me. But why, I do not know.”

Was he upset about their fight, too?

They waved at Kanna and climbed the stairs. Atsumu braced himself before throwing open the door. Just act normal.

Kiyoomi was in bed, curled up under the sheets. He lifted his head when the door opened and glared at them. “What.”

“Yo,” Osamu said. “We need you to bleach our hair.”

This made Kiyoomi sit up. “ _What_?”

Atsumu lifted the plastic bag of supplies. “Bleach our hair. I’m going blonde, Samu’s going gray.”

Kiyoomi stared at them. “What in the world has gotten to you two idiots now?”

After some whining and explaining, they managed to coax the lazy fuck out of his bed and into the bathroom. After consulting the internet, they decided to do two rounds of bleaching each. And then Osamu would need to suffer through an extra round of coloring to get his hair to turn gray.

Atsumu took his turn after Osamu. He sat on the cold tiles between Kiyoomi’s legs and stared idly at the wall as gloved fingers worked through his hair with a brush. The bleach stung but he bore it stoically. They had requested that Kiyoomi leave their undercuts alone. It was probably going to turn out fine. Probably.

At that moment, it was easy to forget about their messy fight. It’s always been easy to forget about all the ways they’ve hurt each other through the years, and that must be the worst part of it all, because they always did it again.

 _But you always hurt the one you love, don’t you?_ Atsumu mused. That was just life.

“Hey, Omi-Omi.”

Kiyoomi paused in his ministrations. “What?”

“You know I don’t hate you for being gay, right?”

Softly, Kiyoomi said, “Yeah.”

He waited but nothing more seemed forthcoming. So instead, he said, with a touch of nostalgia, “Remember when we were kids and we’d fight, and I only needed to buy you your favorite candy in the store and we’d be fine? And we’d spend the afternoon biking around aimlessly, just the two of us.”

“Yeah.” It was just one word but Atsumu knew Kiyoomi’s voice well enough to spot that he was Having Emotions and that at no point should he turn around and look at him because he hated being vulnerable. So Atsumu didn’t. He looked at the wall ahead of him respectfully.

“Things were easier back then,” he said instead.

“Guess life gets harder as we go.”

Yeah. And the wounds get deeper as they go, too. Broken bones and bleeding cuts had nothing on the way they threw words like knives.

“Hey, Atsu,” Kiyoomi suddenly said. “Let’s bike over to the Cemetery again. Just the two of us.”

Like old times, huh? He was wary, but he liked the sound of that. “When?”

“Next weekend? Saturday? I want to tell you something.”

“Ah, sorry. Got a thing with Rin. There’s this game in the arcade we’ve been playing, and we’re still keeping score. Can’t let him beat me.” In the wake of all that had happened lately, he couldn’t help but feel like the distance between them was widening. He wasn’t sure if it was his fault or if it was just life, but it made room for Suna. He was hanging out with him more often than Kiyoomi and Osamu now.

“Oh. Sunday?”

“We’re catching a movie,” he said, apologetic.

Kiyoomi didn’t offer a third time. Atsumu didn’t say a word.

And then Kiyoomi said, “Okay, we’ll rinse that off in a bit then let’s apply the toner.”

Atsumu craned his head to look at him. “The what now?”

“The toner? To neutralize the yellow?”

“We didn’t buy no toner.”

Kiyoomi was looking at him like he was stupid. A familiar sight. “Then that’s your problem, idiot.”

He had to wait half an hour before rinsing and then suffering through it again. Later, Kiyoomi applied the gray color to Osamu’s hair and he seemed pleased by the results of his own work. Atsumu had to admit the gray suited his twin. It brought out the color of his eyes. Osamu admired himself in the mirror and said, “Nice job, Omi.”

Atsumu dried his hair with a blow dryer, excitement pumping through him. He was already liking what he saw. This was just the change he needed.

But Kiyoomi had something to say about it, naturally. “Your hair looks like uncooked spaghetti noodles.”

Atsumu rolled his eyes, but didn’t take the bait, because Kiyoomi sounded more amused than anything. That was fine. He can have his fun. Osamu poked curiously at his hair and he smacked his twin’s hand away.

Hair dry — the texture was noticeable different, but it was still soft, thank god — he ran a hand through it, pleased. 

He turned to Kiyoomi and struck a pose, needing his approval. “Well?”

For a while, Kiyoomi only stared at him, eyes wide. Why was he looking at him like that? Was it that horrible?

“It’s not bad,” he finally admitted. “Samu’s is better though.”

Osamu preened and Atsumu rolled his eyes, but he could help but grin at him. _He likes it_ , he realized. That was a bonus.

“Now I can finally tell you two apart,” Kiyoomi said, recovering.

“Don’t be silly,” Osamu said. “You never mistook us for the other since we were in fifth grade.”

It was true. Atsumu felt like Kiyoomi had them memorized since they were ten. He knew all their habits, bad and good, and subconsciously adjusted his own. He only wore face masks when they were entering unfamiliar territories now, and his mysophobia wasn’t as debilitating as it was before. He once told them, “You two are the most disgusting cockroaches in the world, it couldn’t possibly get worse than this. I’m desensitized.” He even talked like them now, his standard Japanese steadily morphing to the lilting sounds of Kansai-ben over the years. None of them even really noticed it happening. Were they really fifteen now? Where did the time go? 

It’s only been five years since Kiyoomi slipped into their life silently and made a home there, but it felt like a lifetime. And there was a lifetime waiting for them still.

It sounded exciting.

He had no idea what was in store for them, yet.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take a deep breath

There was a game he learned to play in his mind when he first realized he developed feelings for Kiyoomi. It was some silly thing he picked up from romantic comedy flicks.

He’d gamble: _‘He loves me, he loves me not.’_

When he first saw Kiyoomi and Ushijima kissing, the verdict of course, was _‘He loves me not.’_

The funny thing was that it was only a kiss — such a small, harmless thing, easily forgotten if Atsumu was more forgiving. But it was the snowball that kickstarted an avalanche, eventually buried in all the mess that followed. A blip in their timeline, but one that changed the tides.

Throughout their teen years, Atsumu would gaze at Kiyoomi who sometimes gazed back a little too long, and he would suspect, _‘He loves me.’_ But it always flopped back to, _‘He loves me not.’_

The days leading up to his wedding flew by in a loud rush — everyone was always on their feet, trying to make sure everything was going to go right. But there was one silent, unmoving element: Kiyoomi, who had taken to watching Atsumu like he was losing the most precious thing he owned.

And, dread building in his stomach, Atsumu thought, _‘Maybe he loves me.’_

But _why now?_

**Chapter 11**

When he debuted his new hair in school sometime in the second term of freshman year, Suna took one look at him and said, “What the hell.”

Then he looked at Osamu and Atsumu would _swear_ he saw the moment his best friend fell in love with his brother.

He wanted to laugh and tease him for the way his eyes suddenly widened, except he saw the way Osamu just waved and said, “Yo. Check it out.”

“They made me do it,” Kiyoomi said, unzipping his red jacket and unraveling his thick scarf. It wasn’t quite winter yet but the cold was starting to seep in. They’d been consuming too much hot chocolate than what was acceptable for a bunch of athletes.

Suna snapped out of it. He said, “You should stop indulging them in their shenanigans, Sakusa.”

“ _You_ try stopping them.”

“Yeah, no.”

The rest of their teammates gaped at them, but seemed to accept it as a Miya Twin Thing. Aran wordlessly shook his head with the same exhaustion Kiyoomi sometimes did. Practice went on as usual.

During lunch, he watched Suna steal glances at Osamu, amusement threatening to choke him. But he didn’t say anything until the weekend. He invited Suna to come over while Osamu and Kiyoomi were off doing god-knows-what, he’d stopped giving a fuck — and without preamble said, “So. You have a thing for my brother.”

“Shut up, fuck, it’s the worst. God, no.”

Atsumu laughed hysterically and Suna kicked him.

“ _Stop_.”

“How long have you been harboring —”

“Shut up, dammit. It’s not like that. We’re classmates, alright? And teammates. We spend a lot of time together and I can’t help but notice him. That’s _all_.”

“So you don’t like him?”

Suna refused to look at him. But he admitted, “Fine, so I might have developed a tiny crush on him at the beginning of the year. He’s very nice and good-looking, okay.”

“You know, we have the same face, so I’ll take that as a compliment, too.”

Suna scrunched his face in disgust. “Must you remind me? Gross. Fuck. Why’d I have to like one of the Miya twins? I’m never living this down.”

Atsumu just laughed again, powering up the PlayStation. “You know I don’t even know if my brother is gay or what. I don’t think even _he_ knows. He hasn’t said anything.”

“This is just telling me that I have to exorcise these feelings sooner rather than later.”

“Good idea.” He handed Suna a console. He accepted it, then dropped a bomb.

“Don’t think I don’t see how _you_ look at Sakusa.”

He stilled, panic building in his chest. Was he that obvious?

“Don’t worry, he doesn’t know. He’s rather dense. I don’t know about Osamu though, I mean he’s your twin, right? He must know.”

He hadn’t been thinking about that. He’d been trying not to think about Kiyoomi at all.

“Well? Are you not going to admit it? I thought we were sharing secrets now.”

Unbidden, memories of him and Osamu and Kiyoomi sitting on this same spot sharing Deep Dark Secrets came to mind. They have outgrown those days, but maybe he could still retain an aspect of it.

He shifted to face Suna, crossing his legs. “I might perhaps like him, yes.”

Suna mirrored his pose and studied him with those annoyingly knowing eyes. He saw too much.

“And he must never know,” he added.

“Why the hell not?”

“He doesn’t see me that way.”

“How do you know?”

“ _Because_. I just do. I know him. He just sees me as his best friend’s annoying and unpleasant brother.” The words burned on their way out. It wasn’t always like that, but the years cemented that role. Perhaps he called him ‘sea urchin’ one too many times? “We fight all the time.”

“Believe me, I know,” Suna said tiredly. He smirked. “Which makes this all the more amusing. Hey, maybe he’d stop getting triggered if you stop pulling his pigtails.”

He scowled. “That’s _not_ what I’m doing.”

“And anyway, it’s too early to throw in the towel. You’re probably gonna be stuck with each other for life, one way or another. Who knows what might happen.”

“I’m not in any rush to figure this shit out. I’m focusing on volleyball.” He was only sixteen, but he had already decided on his future. He was going to be a professional volleyball player and he planned on achieving that above anything else, so fuck everything else. He blew a raspberry. “Besides, if he had any interest in me whatsoever, then why’d he go kissing Ushijima fucking Wakatoshi, huh?”

Suna whistled. “He did? Oh shit, is that why you were fighting? It was that training camp, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he said bitterly. “He didn’t even tell me he was gay! He told _Osamu_. But not me.”

“Yikes. Okay, it’s starting to sound really shitty.”

“At least you have a chance with Samu.”

“Do I?” Suna asked wistfully. “Cause I think...I have this feeling…”

Suna never got around to sharing the rest of his thoughts because Osamu barged in, tailed by Kiyoomi. They were both bundled up in coats and scarves, and they were carrying bags of what looked like food.

“Oh, Suna, hey,” Osamu said, surprised but smiling.

Straightening, Suna said, “Hey.”

Atsumu glanced at Kiyoomi, who just poked his tongue out at him in that petty way he had that still managed to surprise Atsumu.

Well, fine then. He saw how it is.

**Chapter 12**

The confessions started coming when they reached sophomore year.

He and Osamu grew a couple inches taller and they were standing at six feet now. Kiyoomi, to their disgruntlement, was still a couple inches taller than them, and Atsumu couldn’t help but stare at the expanse of his back. When did his shoulders get so broad? Damn it. At least his hair was still ridiculous.

To Atsumu’s smug pleasure, most of the confessions were directed at him. People watched him, and whispered about him, and gave way when he passed, and he lived for it. Call it a flaw, but he loved attention. He might wither without it. He wanted to be number one in all aspects. He needed to be the best.

(He needed to be better than his twin.)

It was one of those days where he and Kiyoomi actually got along. They were sitting shoulder to shoulder on the rooftop, backs against the wall, waiting for Osamu and Suna to arrive so they could eat lunch. They were trying to rank the Ghibli films — they had just seen From Up On Poppy Hill earlier in the year and they still hadn't decided where to place it.

“Okay, what about Ponyo?” Atsumu asked. “That was cute.” 

“Cute,” Kiyoomi agreed. “But it’s no Princess Mononoke.”

“Is Princess Mononoke really going to be your number one forever? There’s Howl’s, you know. There’s Spirited Away!”

“Spirited Away is Top 2,” he said thoughtfully. “I like the bit with the dragon.”

Atsumu popped a piece of gummy candy in his mouth. He really should stop eating this crap. Athletes have to take care of their bodies. But some girl handed it over to him, and it would be a waste not to eat it.

“I think I still like Howl’s best,” Atsumu said. “Hey, what about Grave of the Fireflies?”

“We are never watching that again,” Kiyoomi said flatly.

Atsumu cackled as if he didn’t cry like he’d just lost his whole family when the three of them first watched it. As if they hadn’t had this exact same conversation a hundred times over the past years.

He offered some candy to Kiyoomi, who begrudgingly accepted, because he still had a sweet tooth. He pretended to be over it, but Atsumu knew him better than that.

“Um, Atsumu-san…”

They both turned their heads towards a blushing girl, clutching a letter in her hands

Not another one.

The girl pointed a finger somewhere in the distance. “May I have a few minutes of your time?” She started backing away slowly, as if she expected Atsumu to come anyway.

Atsumu looked at her, then looked at Kiyoomi.

“Get rid of her,” Kiyoomi muttered in a low voice, annoyed.

“Yeah, fine.”

Atsumu got his legs under him and followed the girl near the edge of the rooftop. She was their classmate, but he couldn’t remember her name. Katara? Aya? Something like that. The only reason he even recognized her was because she was half-American and she had black curly hair that cascaded down her back.

The girl spoke in a soft but assertive voice, telling Atsumu that she has been watching the team’s games, and she couldn’t help but admire him, and that she’d noticed him in classes and was hoping he’d notice her, too.

She pushed the letter towards him. “I hope you consider my feelings.”

Atsumu accepted the letter impulsively. “Sorry, Katara —”

“Kitiara.”

He winced. “Sorry, Kitiara — I’m focusing on volleyball right now. I don’t really have the time for a relationship. But thank you for telling me. I appreciate your support for the team.”

Kitiara took a breath, straightened, then nodded. “As expected. Thank you for your time, Atsumu-san.”

And that was that. When she walked away, he made his way back to Kiyoomi. His brother and Suna were already there.

He sat back down beside Kiyoomi with a sigh. Kiyoomi was scowling at him.

“What?” Atsumu asked. “I got rid of her, like you asked.”

“You took the candy.”

“Ah, right, sorry. Here.” He passed the pack to him. Kiyoomi took it, along with the confession letter he didn’t realize he was still holding.

“Who’s she?” Suna asked.

“Our classmate.” Kiyoomi was the one to answer. His dark eyes were scanning through the letter. “Kaya.”

Atsumu snorted. “ _Kitiara_ , Omi. Can’t you make an effort in at least remembering our classmates’ names?” He said this as if he didn’t call the girl the wrong name, but no one else had to know that bit.

“When will they learn?” Osamu mused. “What do they like about you anyway? Do they know you’re a dick?”

“They have to,” Kiyoomi said. “That’s 90 percent of his personality.”

Osamu and Suna laughed and he pouted. They were always messing with him.

Unexpectedly, Kiyoomi reached out and pinched his cheek. “Stop that. Finish this candy and eat your lunch.”

And because he was apparently still incapable of saying no to this brat, Atsumu obeyed.

He never did get that letter back.

**Chapter 13**

Sophomore year was filled with exciting new developments. At some point in the previous year, Atsumu was dubbed the best high school setter in Japan, and Kiyoomi the Top 2 spiker, surpassed only by — who else — Ushijima Wakatoshi. Fukurodani's Bokuto Koutarou, meanwhile, was Top 3. They carried those titles over to their second year of high school.

It pleased Atsumu greatly. Osamu might have best friend rights, but Atsumu and Kiyoomi were known in the volleyball world as _the_ Power Duo. The fact that they were childhood friends and have been playing together since middle school (officially, anyway) was always a topic in interviews whenever each of them were featured in issues of Volleyball Weekly.

In December, he and Kiyoomi were chosen to take part in the All-Japan Youth Training Camp where they met the likes of Kageyama Tobio (a genius setter), Hoshiumi Kourai (who was unbelievably good all-around player for a short dude), and amazingly, Kiyoomi’s cousin Komori Motoya (a highly-skilled libero).

Komori and Kiyoomi blinked at each other stunned, and the former said, “Oh my god, you’re speaking Kansai-ben. That’s weird.”

Kiyoomi just sighed, resigned. “This is Atsumu, the biggest pain in my ass. Atsu, that’s Komori, my cousin.”

Atsumu took one look at him and told Kiyoomi, “Aren’t you glad you moved to Hyogo? If you’d gone to Itachiyama, you’d be wearing that.” He thought his eyes were watering at the bright yellow and green gradient.

Komori looked offended.

“I like yellow,” Kiyoomi only said.

And then, during Nationals the following January, they met an extremely interesting person: Hinata Shouyou, a middle blocker from Karasuno High, who, combined with Kageyama, could pull off the nastiest quick. Amazed, he and Osamu couldn’t help but try to copy the attack — despite the instability of their relationship lately, they were still connected when they were on the court. They managed it, but not with a 100 percent success rate.

Inarizaki lost to Karasuno — the loss was painful and embarrassing because it was their first game — but it only fueled Atsumu’s thirst to go further, to reach the very top. He vowed he would set for Hinata one day. He’ll be even better than Kageyama.

He knew Kiyoomi felt the same way. On the way home, he commanded Atsumu, “Let’s practice more. You work on your serves, I’ll work on my serve receives. And we should have a cool quick like that, too. No fair that only you and Samu could do it.”

Smiling slowly, Atsumu said, “Okay.”

He heard Aran say, “Monsters. The lot of them.”

And Kita, who was their team captain now, said, “Fascinating, right? How lucky of me.”

But what Atsumu would always remember from that year was his first true heartbreak.

The school year ended, and the spring was teasing new beginnings. The entire team decided to have an overnight camping trip. Kiyoomi required some extra needling, but he eventually agreed, vowing to murder Atsumu (why was it always him?) if insects dared to touch him.

There was a campsite in Osaka, which wasn’t that far a ride from Hyogo, so that’s where they went. He and Osamu had a blast — they’ve always loved the outdoors. Kiyoomi kept the whining to the minimum, so that was great. Suna kept him company, mostly. The two had struck a friendship that mostly consisted of them complaining about _‘these idiot twins.’_

That night, they had a bonfire, and played ill-advised games while roasting marshmallows.

Atsumu was already smarting at the reminder that Kiyoomi (who turned out to be the only one aside from Aran and their libero, Akagi, to have his first kiss) had that thing with Ushijima, which was revealed to the others during Never Have I Ever. So he was wholly unprepared when, during Truth or Dare, their wing spiker, Ginjima, ordered Kiyoomi, "I dare you to kiss Osamu."

And Kiyoomi did.

He wanted to look away, but he was physically unable to. He felt like time slowed down just so he could get a clear view of his first love kissing his twin.

Looking at Osamu sometimes felt like looking at a mirror. But given the way Osamu’s hair was gray now, he couldn’t even pretend it was him.

Perhaps the worst part was the way Osamu leaned in into the kiss, hand curling on Kiyoomi’s shoulder and pulling him close. They stayed like that for what seemed like an eternity. Atsumu blinked a few times, eyes burning. The image wasn’t going away.

His heart was not braced for the trainwreck. And from the low gasp he heard from beside him, he figured Suna’s wasn’t either.

When they separated, Kiyoomi and Osamu acted like nothing happened. Like they didn’t shatter two people who were frozen in place across from them despite the heat coming from the fireplace. For a while, only the crackling of the flames could be heard in the silence of the night. Then their teammates hooted and laughed.

He and Suna exchanged muted horrified glances.

At that moment they knew: things were never going to be the same again.

**Chapter 14**

It had to be said that he didn’t know until then just how deep the feelings went. It wasn’t until he was drowning in the current that he realized he’d slipped and fallen into deep waters.

He did not handle it well.

The two-week break before the new school year started was a curse. He was stuck at home with Osamu and his constant presence felt akin to candle wax dripping on an open wound. He couldn’t look at him. Refused to look at him.

Not even when Osamu stood up from his bed and looked at Atsumu head on. “I don’t know if I’m gay or what, but I want you to know that I think I’m in love with Omi. And I'm going to try to see if it leads anywhere.”

In the steadiest voice he could manage, he said, “Yeah, fine. Goodluck with that, then.”

And they plunged into cold silence. For days.

He was hardly in the right frame of mind to cope with the pain. One day, when his twin was missing (he refused to think about where he was or who he was with) he called up Suna because misery loves company, didn’t it? And they were sharing the same misery.

Suna came over looking just as rough as he did. He said, “So that happened.”

Atsumu buried his face in his pillow and screamed.

He felt his bed dip when Suna climbed the stairs and sat on the edge. “Is it weird if I say I didn’t realize I was in love with Osamu until I saw him kiss Kiyoomi like that?”

He turned his head to say, “Nah. Feelings are weird.”

“Feelings are fucked up. Can we just not have them?”

They ended up sitting with their backs against the wall, staring at nothing. Atsumu told Suna about Osamu’s declaration the night before. From the edges of his vision, he saw Suna turn his head to look at him. “Why can’t I like you? You’re right, you have the same face.”

There was no humor in the laugh that Atsumu let out. “Hell if I know. Seems like everybody falls in love with Osamu eventually even though they get blinded by me.”

Suna wouldn’t stop staring. He finally turned his head to look back at him.

“Hey, Tsumu. You’ve never kissed anyone, have you?”

Slowly, he said, “No.”

“Me neither.”

He didn’t know who leaned in first. But he knew what was supposed to be an innocent kiss quickly turned into a filthy one as they poured all their messy emotions into each other’s mouths. He ended up pinning Suna down on the mattress, shoving his tongue in his mouth, not really knowing what he was doing but knowing it felt damn good.

From the way Suna rutted against him, Atsumu assumed he felt the same.

It felt like they were a dormant spark suddenly doused with gas. Or maybe it was the raging hormones of two teenage virgins who really just wanted to get it over with. But next thing they knew, their clothes were discarded on the floor, and they were well on their way to committing an irreversible act.

“Wanna be really, really shitty?” Suna asked.

“Hell yeah,” Atsumu said.

“Let’s do it on Osamu’s bed.”

Laughing so hysterically he nearly fell off, Atsumu pushed himself off of Suna and led the way, stopping by his underwear drawer to dig around for condoms and lube. Just because he’d never done it, doesn’t mean he hadn’t been preparing for it.

There on his twin’s bed, they moved against each other slowly, hands touching each other curiously. They were intoxicated by the sheer wrongness of it — they were getting off on it. It felt _so good_. Atsumu’s nerve endings felt like they were on fire.

“No going back,” Atsumu warned him.

Suna grinned at him, eyes glinting, his dark hair splayed on the white pillow. At that moment, Atsumu thought he was actually beautiful.

They went all the way, impatience and curiosity winning out. He didn’t think of Kiyoomi at all.

And the name Suna moaned out was _‘Atsumu,’_ not Osamu so he counted that as a win for both of them.

**Chapter 15**

The thing with Suna lasted longer than even they anticipated.

He supposed the right term was fuck buddies. They both knew they were in love with someone else, but they couldn’t help but indulge in this newfound pleasure. It became an addiction. At some point, Suna surfaced, and panted out, “Damn, you think maybe we should stop? I feel like we’re sinking lower and lower each day. I’m never getting into heaven now.”

He laughed for a minute straight at that. Then he said, “But it feels good.”

“Fuck. Yeah. Let’s go again.”

It was practically all they could do that entire spring break. There was no danger of Osamu and Kiyoomi walking in on them, because they already did that on the third day.

It was a good thing that it had been a weekday and his parents had work. The way Osamu screamed would have sent them running in. He and Kiyoomi caught them sweaty and panting, smack in the middle of the act — right on Osamu’s bed. Atsumu had ground out, “Do you mind. Get out.”

Kiyoomi, who looked like he’d just been slapped, turned on his heel and left. Pale and shocked, Osamu followed him out.

And they kept going at it like rabbits.

The other two stayed away after that, horrified. Osamu couldn’t seem to look him in the eye, only once stating, “So you’re gay.”

“Bi, actually.”

“I see. And this is your petty revenge plot.”

Atsumu snorted, keeping his anger at bay. “Nah. It just feels good, who is it harming?”

“You have no fucking idea, do you?”

He stared, confused, as Osamu walked out of the room.

And then, one weekend, Kiyoomi was sitting on the floor fiddling with the PlayStation. When Osamu went out to get drinks, he said, “What’s with you and Suna?”

“Hmm? I guess we’re friends with benefits.” He turned to his side, to peek down at his — what was he even? Friend?

Kiyoomi looked tense. “Is this you getting back at me for not telling you I was gay sooner?”

Atsumu sighed, getting sick of the revenge accusations. There was some truth to it, sure, but Suna was his best friend. He wouldn’t use him like that. “I was going to tell you that I was bi. But then the thing with Ushiwaka happened and I just didn’t feel like it anymore, okay? I’m not fucking apologizing.” _You didn’t apologize either_ , he didn’t say.

“Do you like Suna?”

“What’s with these fucking questions? He’s my best friend. Sex feels good. We like doing it. It doesn’t have to be that deep. Get over it.”

After that, the issue was laid to rest. But they wouldn’t stop staring at Atsumu and Suna on the rare days they were all together.

The truly unholy affair lasted well into their third year of high school. And it wasn’t the only one.

One day, a girl approached him, not with a confession, but with a proposition. She winked and gave him what could only be a come-hither glance, and well, he was curious alright? He'd never done it with a girl.

“Hey, we’re not exclusive, right?” he asked Suna.

“No? We aren’t together. Don’t tell me you caught feelings.”

Atsumu kicked him on the leg. “Shut your trap, I’m just making sure, because some girl is propositioning me.”

“Have fun, then.”

Sex with a girl was extremely different, but he also liked it. He was embarrassingly bad at it at first, but with enough practice, he knew he’d get better at it.

And it turned out that there were many who were willing to practice with him. Soon enough, he had a string of lovers, boys _and_ girls. He spent lunch hours fumbling around in bathrooms. Instead of hanging out with Suna after practice, he was sneaking around with a partner he couldn’t even be bothered to know by name.

He knew this was not the right way to cope with heartbreak and betrayal, but was fun. Borderline hedonistic.

“Atsu,” Kiyoomi said one day when he walked into the bathroom and saw Atsumu trying to straighten himself out. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

His tone was judgmental and Atsumu was instantly furious. What right did he have to judge his actions, when he was breaking Atsumu’s heart?

True to his word, Osamu was wooing Kiyoomi and the sight of them always together kept rubbing salt into the wound. How the hell was he supposed to get over it when he had to watch his twin wrap an arm around Kiyoomi’s shoulder? How was he supposed to sleep knowing that Kiyoomi _let_ him? He once saw Kiyoomi plant his face in Osamu’s shoulder and furiously tracked the way Osamu rubbed his hand up and down his back. He wanted to break Osamu’s wrist.

“It’s called sex, Omi-Omi,” he drawled out, biting down his temper. “Surely, you’ve heard of it.”

Kiyoomi glared at him, dark eyes narrowing. “Hard not to when I’ve walked in on you with your hand down your pants too many damn times.”

The reminder made Atsumu flush with mortification. It made him angrier. He stalked forward, forcing himself into Kiyoomi’s space until the latter stumbled back into the cold bathroom wall. He stared him down. Kiyoomi might be taller, but Atsumu was bigger. “What’s the matter? Jealous? Want it to be you?”

Something like hate seeped into Kiyoomi’s face. He placed his hands on Atsumu’s chest and shoved. Even though he was braced for it, Atsumu staggered back, unbalanced. When did Kiyoomi get so strong? When did he grow up?

“Fuck you, Atsumu.” He opened the door and slammed it behind him.

Atsumu didn’t think things could be worse, but of course life had to prove him wrong. He reacted accordingly.

“Dude,” Suna said after weeks of this misery. He was staring at Atsumu with those shrewd eyes. “Are you, like...okay?”

“Of course.”

“Right. And that’s why you’ve lost weight and have dark bags under your eyes.”

“I just haven’t been sleeping well.”

“You fumbled a toss in practice. Twice.”

“I told you —”

“Is this about Kiyoomi and Osamu?”

He clicked his mouth shut. He wanted to deny it, but of fucking course it was about them. How does he explain that he was hurt because — what, they kicked him out of the group? It sounded childish.

“Atsumu, look,” Suna said. “This is fucking me up too, you know? And I’ll never understand how it feels like for you because they’re both important to you, but this is a bit — much.”

“What, so I’m not allowed to feel what I feel?”

“That’s not what I’m saying. What I’m saying is that you’re self-destructing and it’s a worrying thing to see.”

“I’m not self-destructing.”

“You’re not sleeping, you’re barely eating, you don’t even talk to Osamu or Kiyoomi anymore, hell, you barely talk to me. All you do is study, practice, and fuck. Gross, by the way. I hope you’re using condoms.”

“Of course I am,” he snapped. He ran a hand down his face. “What’s wrong with fucking? It feels good.”

“And does it help with the misery?”

“For a few minutes, sure. So why not, huh?”

Suna sighed and gave up. “Whatever. But I’m just saying, I’m here if you wanna talk.”

The turning point came in the form of one angry Sakusa Kiyoomi. Of course.

Kiyoomi cornered him after practice one day, looming over him with a dark expression. “If you’re not going to take this seriously, then get off the team, scrub.”

Offended, he snapped back, “Don’t you fucking speak to your captain that way. You should respect me, you know, but you never fucking learned to.”

“Don’t give me that crap. I respect you when you’re worthy of it, and lately, you’re not the least bit worthy of it. What kind of performance was that back there, huh? You dare call yourself captain when you’re the one lagging behind? You dare call yourself a setter when you keep fucking up a simple _toss_?”

“I didn’t —”

“You could barely last a whole game, your hits are weak, you’re distracted and can’t even pull off a simple play. You know I hate it when people aren’t taking care of themselves. You know I hate it when you fall short of my expectations. You fucking disappoint me. You should be benched. The only reason you aren’t is because everyone’s hoping you’ll miraculously get back into top form.”

The words were like a knife to the heart. He glared at Kiyoomi hatefully.

Satisfied that he’d made his point, Kiyoomi turned and started to walk away. Over his shoulder he called, “Qualifiers for Nationals are soon, _Captain_. Personal issues don’t have a place here. Get your shit together or get off the court.”

Atsumu went home alone, stewing. When he arrived in his room, Osamu was already there. He looked up at Atsumu then back at the book he was reading.

“What?” he dared Osamu. “Not gonna lay it on me?”

“Drive your life into ruins if you want, I don’t give a shit.”

It angered him further. “You know, I fucking hate you, Osamu.”

“I figured.”

“Is that all you have to say?”

Osamu deigned to look at him again. “I know what you want me to apologize for but I’m not gonna do it. I can’t help my feelings, Atsumu. Don’t blame me because you were too chickenshit to make a move before I did.”

So Osamu knew. The realization cut through him. At that moment, he knew they were irreversibly broken. In his fury, he couldn’t speak.

But Osamu wasn’t done. “And you know what? You practically drove him into my arms.”

He did not know what that was supposed to mean. But he knew one thing. “You two fucking deserve each other.”

He stormed into the bathroom and slammed the door.

He cried under the spray of the shower. Then he went out to the back porch, called Suna, and cried some more.

The next day, he tried to remember what it was like to be a half-good team captain and volleyball player. He hated it, but Kiyoomi was right. He had to be better than this. He had to be better than them.

It took a couple weeks before he could say he was back in shape. When he sent Kiyoomi the perfect toss, allowing him to kill the ball efficiently, he received a nod. His shoulders relaxed.

Later that afternoon, he and Kiyoomi walked home together, for the first time in months. He didn’t know where Osamu was, nor did he care.

Kiyoomi bumped his shoulder against his. “Nice to have you back, Captain.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

And then Kiyoomi stopped walking and caught the back of his jacket. Atsumu turned automatically.

Eyes searching, Kiyoomi said, “Atsu, is it my fault?”

“What?”

“It just feels like you’re so angry with me lately, but I don't know why. What did I do? Is it still because of that thing with Wakatoshi? Or the gay thing? Because I wanted to tell you, but I was worried about what you would think. I was confused, okay? And I’ve been trying to make it up to you, but you’ve been so...mean.” Kiyoomi dropped his hand and looked away.

It was only then Atsumu realized that Kiyoomi didn’t _know_. Of course he didn’t know that Atsumu was in love with him and that watching him with Osamu was slowly killing him. That the stupid kiss broke his heart. Atsumu never said anything, why would he know? And it seemed like Osamu never told him either. His twin has always been the type to play his cards close to his chest.

This whole time, he’d been acting like he was slighted and he’d been taking it out on the person who least deserved it. The person he once vowed he’d never hurt.

Then and there, he made a new vow: he was never going to let Kiyoomi feel the burden of his love again. If he was happy with Ushjima or even fucking Osamu, so be it. He never wanted to be the person responsible for that hurt look on his face.

He stepped closer to Kiyoomi and tried to catch his eyes. “I’m not mad.”

Kiyoomi looked back at him, lips turning down into a pout. “You are.”

God, how could a six-foot teenage boy look so damn adorable? Who allowed him to look like that? Was he trying to kill Atsumu? Was it not enough that he had a painfully tight grip on his heart?

Helpless, he said, “Of course I’m not mad at you, Omi-Omi.” At that moment, it was wholly true. He’d forgive him anything. Kiyoomi could kiss all the men he wanted and Atsumu would accept it.

“Then, you’ll bike with me to the Cemetery?”

“I’ll bike with you to the Cemetery.”

“Just the two of us?”

“Just the two of us.”

Kiyoomi smiled. It was like dawn breaking.

**Chapter 16**

He was eighteen when he finally had the strength to ask the question. He and Osamu were clearing out their childhood room, preparing to open the next chapter of their lives.

“When did you know?” he asked out of nowhere. “That I liked him.”

Osamu paused at rolling up his old posters. As far as Atsumu knew, he didn’t plan on taking that with him, but perhaps he was burying the child in him. Or something.

“When we were fourteen and you said you wanted to spend days and days with him,” Osamu answered quietly. “We were in the Cemetery doing nothing. It was boring. But you liked it anyway, because he was there.”

He accepted it with a tight nod. The thing is, they could try to keep secrets from one another, but they knew each other too well. He’s not surprised if Osamu knew of his feelings before he even caught up.

He and Osamu always shared phases and obsessions.

He really shouldn’t be surprised that they fell in love with the same person, too.

Not for the first time, he wondered why it had to be Sakusa Kiyoomi. Of the 400,000 people who lived in Amagasaki, why did they both have to latch onto him? He was only exciting the first month. Maybe even just the first day. It wasn’t because he was new.

Strictly speaking, he wasn’t even classically handsome. His physical features were fine: strong, expressive eyebrows, a straight, snobbish nose, naturally pouty lips that were devastating when he was actually upset. Put together on skin that’s always pale no matter how much sun they expose him to, he was just...alright.

What was it then, that compelled him so? Was it the curly hair? It was bordering unkempt. Perhaps the moles? There were two on his forehead that Atsumu adored, but he knew there were more scattered like constellations across his body.

Was it the resting bitch face? The unimpressed glances? The snark, the sarcastic remarks, the blunt words that were often hilarious but sometimes cutting? The way he always tried to look stoic, but his eyes couldn’t quite hide what he was feeling?

Was it the way his muscles flexed when he was doing push ups? Or the way he didn’t even need kneepads when playing volleyball because he’d mastered the perfect receive?

Or maybe it was the way his face would sometimes soften when he looked at Atsumu, which sometimes made him think, _‘He loves me.’_ Maybe it was the way he hardly ever let people touch him, but Atsumu was always allowed in his personal space. Maybe it was the way they could laugh together, so easy, so effortless, no matter what problem was hanging over them.

Maybe it was the rare smile that only few ever got to see. Maybe it was the way he had to be coaxed out of his shell, but he was always, always worth the wait and the effort.

Maybe it was the way he looked at Atsumu and saw past his wall of thorns and straight into his soul.

**Chapter 17**

There was a period of time where everything seemed to reach an impasse. A limbo period. He dropped the flings and one-night stands and focused all his attention on school and volleyball — he had less than a year in high school left to make it count. He remained friends with benefits with Suna, because it was fun. His and Osamu’s relationship had become perpetually frosty, they might as well be rooming with strangers.

Osamu kept flirting with Kiyoomi. He couldn’t even muster anger over it. He was just vaguely resentful and resigned.

His friendship with Kiyoomi got better, though. Better than it has been in probably years. It was almost like they were children again, down to the way Kiyoomi clung to him.

“Did you miss me or what?” he asked one day, amused by the way Kiyoomi was sitting right beside him on the rooftop. It was just the two of them there, there was plenty of space. His sharp elbow was poking Atsumu’s rib.

Kiyoomi dug his nails into Atsumu’s bicep. “No. Give me your food. I like yours better.”

Of course he did. He handed his bento over.

The limbo was shattered when a girl — Kitiara, it was Kitiara again — approached him with yet another confession.

And, look. Sex was nice and all, but he thought he would like to take a shot at a relationship. The loneliness was starting to eat at him. His twin wasn’t talking to him, Suna wasn’t in love with him, and Kiyoomi, well...it wasn’t like he was ever getting anywhere with that. He didn’t even know what was going on with him and Osamu. He never asked, wanting to avoid that particular torment, and they never volunteered information. They sure acted chummy. It still burned him.

Atsumu accepted the confession and agreed to try dating.

Since Kitiara had once again cornered him on the rooftop during break, Kiyoomi (who has been his classmate every single year of high school) was the first person to find out.

“That girl again?” Kiyoomi asked.

“Yeah. Kitiara. I said yes.”

Kiyoomi dropped his chopsticks and stared at him. “What?”

“I said yes,” he repeated. “I said we can try dating. Hey, what were you going to tell me a while ago? Before she interrupted.”

Kiyoomi gave him an unreadable glance. “Nothing. Not important anymore.”

Atsumu told Suna the news that afternoon, after practice. Suna just shrugged. “I suppose we should stop, then. But wanna do it one last time?”

“Marathon sex, let’s go.”

They went to Suna’s room this time, because his only living parent worked the night shift, and wasn’t coming home until 6 in the morning. Atsumu told his parents he was sleeping over at Suna’s and he spent the night screwing his best friend into the mattress. Suna said, “Our future partners should thank us, I think we got really good at that.”

Staying up all night to fuck a teammate was a pretty irresponsible thing to do as a team captain, but what was one more mistake? The following morning during practice, he muffled his laughter whenever Suna tried to pretend he wasn’t sore. Kiyoomi stared at him, almost feverishly, and Osamu just rolled his eyes. His brother knew he didn’t go home the previous night, it wasn’t hard to connect the dots.

It had been quite the experience, the thing with Suna. He was going to miss it.

But it was time to start a new chapter in his life.

**Chapter 18**

Having a girlfriend was...weird. He was never able to put her first, because volleyball was his priority, so there was a learning curve there.

Loving Kitiara was something he got better at over time. It was hard _not_ to love her, patient and supportive as she was. She attended all his games, be it practice matches or official tournaments. She made him bento boxes for lunch with cute little notes. She waited for him after practice just so they could walk to the station together, and he would give her a perfunctory kiss as goodbye.

She was pretty. She made effort in styling her curly black hair, and always applied some red tint on her normally pale cheeks. Whenever he kissed her, she tasted like cherries. She was soft when he hugged her and she smelled nice, like flowers.

And she was no pushover. She put her foot down whenever she believed she was being treated unfairly, she wasn’t scared of calling Atsumu out when he was being shitty, and most of the time it felt like she was the one leading the relationship. That was fine with Atsumu. He didn’t really know what he was doing.

But perhaps what really sold the whole thing to Atsumu was that she was all _his_. She was not something he shared with Osamu. She didn’t even pay attention to his twin. All her effort went to Atsumu and Atsumu alone. She was like a balm to his bleeding heart.

He found himself becoming happier. He found himself slowly letting her in.

Suna had no strong feelings about her, he just accepted her presence with barely a blink. Osamu just raised his eyebrows and told him he didn’t deserve her. His parents were confused, but accepting.

But Kiyoomi? He absolutely _loathed_ her.

He didn’t try to hide it either. He would scowl at her presence, refused to even acknowledge her, and made sure to sit beside Atsumu every chance he got. He became even clingier, if that was possible.

One afternoon, they were all on their way to the mall, trying to decide what to have for dinner.

“I think I’m feeling yakiniku,” Kitiara said.

He was about to agree, when Kiyoomi said, “I want ramen. We said we were going to that ramen shop, remember?” he asked, looking at Atsumu.

“Oh, right.” He had completely forgotten about that, and he felt bad. He’d been so preoccupied with Kitiara that he felt like he’d been leaving Kiyoomi behind. And just when they reached a relatively peaceful era of their relationship, too. “Ramen it is,” he said, feeling indulgent.

Suna was giving him a look he simply did not understand.

When they got to the shop, Kiyoomi took the spot beside Atsumu. And when their food arrived, he dropped the toppings he didn’t like on Atsumu’s ramen. He’d always been such a picky eater. He liked to call Atsumu his trash can.

The walk home ended with just the three of them. It’s been a while since it was like this. Him having a girlfriend thawed his relationship with Osamu a bit, probably because he wasn’t a threat anymore. And Atsumu was even feeling rather forgiving towards his twin. What did he have to hold onto, anyway? It shouldn’t matter anymore, he had someone now. He had to let that shit go.

If he said it enough, it might come true.

He and Osamu stopped in front of Kiyoomi’s house, and he felt a rush of nostalgia. This felt like old times. There was no getting those moments back anymore. “Night, Omi-Omi,” he said.

“Night, Atsu.” He smiled at him, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

Osamu cleared his throat. “Night, Omi-kun.”

“Night, Samu.”

They both watched him as he walked up the walkway and disappeared into his house. Then they made the short trek home in silence.

That Sunday, he went over to Kiyoomi’s house, feeling like he had to make it up to him. He’d noticed that Kiyoomi had been pretty down lately — he was quieter, retreating back into his shell. He jumped on his bed, waking him up. “Morning, Omi-Omi!”

Kiyoomi groaned and tried to hide under his pillow, but Atsumu took it away. Then he stripped away the blanket. “Come on, you’re spending the day with me.”

Groggily, Kiyoomi sat up and looked at him. “Where?”

Atsumu blinked. He was expecting more resistance. “Cemetery?”

They biked leisurely on the wide road bracketed by trees leading to the cemetery. It was autumn so brown leaves intermittently fell around them as they weaved around each other, crossing paths but never crashing. The wind was pleasant as it breezed past their faces, tousling their hair.

“If you could be a star, which would you be?” he asked Kiyoomi. They were playing 20 Questions.

“Hmm. The north star, I suppose. Whatever star that is. But I don’t think I’m a star.”

“Oh?’

“I’m feeling more like Jupiter. The failed star. I always liked that.”

“Isn’t that like, inaccurate?”

“Maybe. Don’t care. I still like it.”

“Why?”

“Dunno...something about how it could have been a star if it were bigger or burned brighter. But it didn’t. So it’s just a planet.”

“But it’s a nice planet. It’s the biggest planet in our solar system, isn’t it?”

“Hmm. Yeah, I suppose.” Kiyoomi stopped pedaling, and let his bike carry him across the road. “My turn. Why do you like Kitiara?”

Atsumu stopped pedaling, too, effortlessly keeping pace with him. “She’s...nice? And pretty. And supportive.”

“I see.”

Glancing at him, Atsumu asked, “Why don’t _you_ like her?”

Kiyoomi’s bike started slowing down and he put on the brakes. He caught himself with his foot. “Because you’re still my favorite person, and I was supposed to be yours, too.”

The old memory surfaced, startling him. He stopped his bike right beside Kiyoomi’s, heart aching. What he would give for things to be that simple again.

He gazed at Kiyoomi, traced his features with his eyes. He thought he was getting more beautiful every day, but maybe that was just him. When you know a person enough, you don’t really get hung up on looks. Everything they are just starts to reflect on their faces, until you’re looking at something so familiar and dear and loved.

He’d had a lifetime to learn how to love Kiyoomi. He wasn’t about to stop now. Kiyoomi will always hold a special place in his heart, even though he’d already promised it to someone else.

“You _are_ my favorite person,” he told Kiyoomi with all honestly.

Something about the way Kiyoomi looked up at him twisted his heart. He leaned in and watched Kiyoomi’s eyes widen. Then he pressed a kiss on his forehead.

“You’ll always be that. Don’t worry.”

Kiyoomi raised his arms and wrapped them around Atsumu. Surprised, Atsumu could only hug him back. It felt like the million apologies they owed each other and yet never let slip past their lips.

He didn’t know how long they stayed like that. All he knew was that he didn’t want it to end. But the hug also felt like goodbye.

**Chapter 19**

He knew he was going to be in love with Kiyoomi forever when he tossed him the ball and watched as he soared through the air and killed it, winning them the championship. It was their last high school match ever, and he came through. He always came through. He was Atsumu’s go-to power move, his queen.

Atsumu ran and hugged him around the waist when he realized what had happened. Kiyoomi was drenched in sweat, droplets of it falling around his face, and his hair was truly insane, but he smiled at Atsumu, freely, genuinely. Then and there, Atsumu thought, _‘I am going to love you for the rest of my life.’_

It was a quiet realization, one that almost got swept away by the celebrations. But he never forgot it.

Not when he and Kitiara started making plans about their near future. Not when they all graduated high school. Not when they all went their separate ways — Atsumu to Osaka to join the MSBY Black Jackals, Osamu to culinary school in Kobe, Suna to join the EJP Raijins in Tokyo, and Kiyoomi to study in Waseda, also in Tokyo.

The night before Kiyoomi was set to leave, Atsumu went to bid him goodbye, still hurt, remembering the no-nonsense way he said, “I’m leaving after high school. I’m going to university in Waseda.” Atsumu didn’t even know he was applying for college. Somehow, in all their excited chattering about joining pro teams, it escaped his notice that Kiyoomi was silent.

Heartbroken, Atsumu watched Kiyoomi sit down on his bed, his room stripped bare. Years worth of memories packed up or thrown away. No trace of Atsumu or Osamu left.

Kiyoomi watched him back. There was a strange kind of electricity between them that night, and Atsumu thought, _‘Maybe he loves me.’_

“Atsu,” Kiyoomi said. “Atsu, I —”

“What?”

Kiyoomi looked down on the floor. “I’m sorry.”

He deflated. Sorry was not enough to fix things, not this time. How long had Kiyoomi been planning to leave? How could he not have seen it? He felt stupid, betrayed, hurt. He felt like Kiyoomi erected a wall between them, _again_ , and he didn’t know why he was being shut out.

He didn’t want to know, but he had to ask. “When did you tell Osamu?”

Kiyoomi shut his eyes briefly. “When I was applying for colleges. Last year. He’s been helping me.”

“Right. Of course.” What did he expect? They were together, weren’t they? They sure seemed like it. He moved on to the next question. “Why? Why leave?”

Eyes wet, Kiyoomi looked at him with unfathomable emotion. “Because it’s starting to really hurt.”

“ _What_ does?” How could one person be so blunt, but so unclear? Having conversations with him was like pulling teeth sometimes.

“I can’t tell you.”

He scoffed. “I don’t know why I bother.” Tiredly, he said, “Whatever, Omi. Hope you have a swell time in Tokyo.”

He left without looking back. He never needed Kiyoomi for him to be a damn good setter. Kiyoomi could break their duo if he wanted, Atsumu wasn’t begging for him back.

And so, in the spring of 2014, the Sakusas moved out of their suburban home in Amagasaki, and returned to Tokyo. Gone without a sound. Just like the way they arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It started out with a kiss how did it end up like this it was only a kiss IT WAS ONLY A KISS
> 
> Alternate title for this: "Sakuatsu childhood friends au ft. everything that could go wrong"


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The timeline kinda normalizes here so expect scenes to repeat, though I add more context this time. Uhh...just...keep holding on...

“I still don’t get it.” Suna was sitting on his bed, watching as he paced around the room, trying to check if he’d forgotten anything. It was the morning of his wedding day and they were going to have to leave soon to go to the venue.

“What?” he asked, exasperated.

“You’re getting married. I still don’t get it.”

“Dude. Seriously. Can you just — let me get through this day?”

“Your best friend is supposed to stop you from making a mistake right?”

He stopped and faced Suna. “So you think this is a mistake?”

“I’m not even gonna lie. Yes, Atsumu. Yes, it is.”

He rubbed his eyes. “Is this still about Omi?”

“Who else?” Suna was looking at him like he was an idiot. “It’s always him, isn’t it?”

“It’s too damn _late_ , Rin. You just — you don’t get it.”

“No, _you_ don’t get it! Fuck, you’re _lucky_ , you know? That was like, a once in a lifetime kind of love. And you’re letting it go!”

“There’s nothing to let go of, we were never together! Life just didn’t work for us, okay? You said it yourself, we had a lifetime to figure it out, but we just never happened. Maybe we were fated to meet, but we weren’t fated to be together, okay? That kind of shit _happens_.”

Suna pressed his hands to his face and let himself collapse on the bed. “I tried. I want it to be known that I fucking tried.” 

**Chapter 20**

He hit rock bottom when he was nineteen.

It was a downward spiral so slow that he didn’t notice it at first. After graduation, he had burst into the volleyball big leagues with a bang, even though he was a rookie — he didn’t play starter in the official matches, but they tapped him as a pinch server. His explosive serves, on top of his already established fanbase, shot him to immediate popularity. It only spurred him further. He practiced day in, day out; he stayed back even after the team was dismissed, and went to the court on their day-offs.

He was no longer speaking to Kiyoomi or Osamu.

A few months into this, he started losing sleep. It made him cranky; he could tell he had started grating on his teammates’ nerves but he didn’t care. He ignored the feeling of acid in his stomach and told himself he was used to not being liked in his own team.

He learned that insomnia was quite a bitch; he felt detached, heavy, tired. The only time he felt alive was when he’s playing volleyball, but the exhaustion started to take its toll — slowly, slowly.

When he messed up a toss, he realized, _‘I’m losing it.’_

Their head coach, Samson Foster, called him out on his subpar performance one day. “Are you alright, Atsumu-kun?”

“Yes, Coach,” he said. “Just having a hard time sleeping.”

“Well, you better do something about that. At the rate you’re going, you’re never going to be starting setter.”

The words burned at him. Memories of Kiyoomi calling a scrub grated on him. He wasn’t about to make the same mistake again.

He started slipping bits of alcohol in his drinks. Just a little. It’s just vodka, it was fine. Some nights it knocked him out for hours, some nights it didn’t work at all. But it was enough to tide him over for a few more weeks. And then he graduated to drinking wine before bed. A daily glass of wine was good for the heart, that’s what they say, right?

“Atsumu-kun,” said their middle blocker, Meian. “You look kinda rough.”

He groaned, rubbing his face. “It’s the damn sleep.”

“Yo, maybe you should see someone about that? You’ve kinda been a moody dick lately,” said their libero, Inunaki Shion.

He scowled. “Maybe.”

“Or just talk to someone,” Meian said. “You know, we’re here for you if you need to get something off your chest.”

Atsumu studied Meian and Inunaki. They weren’t that bad. They were probably the only two teammates he could stand, even though Inunaki’s smart mouth sometimes made him want to deck the guy. Meian, however, was kind. Too kind. He found that weird.

But even if he liked them, why the hell would he talk to them?

Maybe he could ask Suna what to do? What does one do about insomnia? But Suna was also busy adjusting to Tokyo and his new volleyball team, he didn’t really want to bother him. It wasn’t like it was a big problem, was it?

He should probably talk to Kitiara, but he wasn’t in the mood to fight. It seemed like that was all they did these days. At some point two months ago, he’d decided he couldn’t deal and just let her be for the most part.

He wasn’t surprised when she dumped him right before the winter break in late December. He didn’t even put up a fight. Of course she’d leave him, too.

Things came to a head in mid-January when Foster let him play his first official match as an actual setter because their starter recently sprained his ankle. It was his first real V. League game and he was pumped.

He wasn’t in the right frame of mind to recognize that he was fraying at the edges.

He fucked up the game. He was too aggressive, brimming with manic energy. His hitters couldn’t keep up with him, and they failed to meet his impulsive plays. And then, after he’d jumped for a setter dump, he miscalculated. He landed on unsteady legs, and he collapsed, catching himself with his arm. 

A sickeningly familiar pop in his elbow sent a rush of pain and dread through him.

Not again.

The MSBY Black Jackals forfeited the game — and eventually, the rest of the V. League season. With both setters out of the equation, there wasn’t any choice.

To his mortification, they carried him out in a stretcher and loaded him in an ambulance. Atsumu grit his teeth through the pain, relieved when it started to numb. They put it in a cast again, telling him it will take two months to heal. Right before he was discharged from the emergency room, however, Foster asked the doctor, “Who do we have to see for insomnia or other possible sleep conditions?”

The doctor hummed. “You’ll need a sleep specialist. There are clinics around here for that. I can refer you to one.”

“Thank you.”

When they were on their way back to the Jackals’ apartment, Foster said, “Don’t look at me like that. This was a test and you failed. You have a few months to convince me I should still keep you on the team. Right now, I’m disinclined.”

Heavy with self-loathing and anger, he collapsed on the couch in his room and drank wine straight from the bottle. He was under heavy painkillers so it was an extremely bad idea, but who was it harming? He wouldn’t be playing anytime soon. In fact, he might not ever play again, after the shit he’d pulled today.

He didn’t see how he could fight his way past this. He didn’t see how he could survive this slump. So, like he always did when life was too damn shitty, he called the one person he wanted to talk to.

He ignored Suna’s missed calls, and tapped on Kiyoomi’s name, breaking their almost year-long silence.

“Atsumu.” Kiyoomi’s low voice washed through him like a cleansing wave. “Are you alright?”

“Hurts,” he slurred out. “Fuck.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“What’re ya sorry for?”

“It’s my fault. Because I kicked you off the bed that one time.”

The old memory surfaced in his fuzzy mind and he choked out a laugh. He did remember Kiyoomi’s father saying a dislocated elbow was more prone to being dislocated again. “Don’t be stupid. That was all me. Omi-Omi, I keep fucking up. Why do I keep fucking up? No wonder you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Then why’d you leave me?” His voice was sad now. Something heavy was pressing against his chest and his head swam.

He wasn’t sure, but he thought Kiyoomi said, “You left me first.”

He slapped himself a couple times. Tried to sit up. His stomach turned and he felt sick with nausea. He no longer knew what was causing him to feel this way. Was he drunk? Was he high? Was it Kiyoomi? He said, “You make me sick.”

There was a pained laugh on the other end of the line. Kiyoomi said something, but bile was quickly making its way up his throat. He leaned over the couch and expelled all the contents of his stomach. His throat burned with acid. The world wouldn’t stop spinning and there was an endless ringing in his ear.

“...sumu? Atsumu!”

He coughed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He put the phone back on his ear. “Sorry,” he ground out. “Fuck. Everything is shit. Gonna try to sleep this off.”

“Get better soon, Atsumu.”

The next day, he had hazy memories of the conversation, his mind barely able to make out what was said.

He woke up to Suna and Kitiara talking in worried voices above him. He was on the floor, lying beside a pool of half-dried vomit. He wasn’t sure how or when he got there.

“You stupid idiot,” Suna said, kneeling beside him. “If you’d just talked to me —”

“You were busy,” he croaked out.

“I’ve been fucking calling! You’ve been ignoring me! And I’ve been talking to your parents, they said you haven’t been answering them either. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

The noise made him wince. Suna sighed. “You’re fucking gross. You need a bath. Kit, can you handle it? I’ll go out to buy food.”

“Alright.”

Kitiara helped him to the shower, stripped him off his clothes, and dumped him in the tub, his cast safely wrapped in plastic. Then she sighed and knelt down beside him. “I’m sorry, Atsumu. I didn’t realize what was happening. I felt like you were neglecting me, that I was the only one left trying.”

“Sorry,” he muttered.

She smoothed back his damp hair. “What have you done to yourself?”

“Everything’s just shitty.” His eyes burned with tears.

“Is this about Osamu? Kiyoomi? Did they do something again?”

The tears slipped out. They didn’t do anything, but they didn’t have to. The past injuries, big and small, were more than enough. It took him this long to break. Death by a thousand cuts.

Kitiara thumbed his tears away.

“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I won’t leave you again.”

He latched onto her, and the promise, and cried for the first time in the longest time.

**Chapter 21**

Time heals all wounds, that’s how the saying goes. And over the next few years, he found that to be mostly true. Cuts heal if he lets them. Peace finds him if he stays still.

Kitiara started dropping hints about marriage when they were 22. Not counting the brief breakup, they’ve been together for five years. He realized, _‘That’s not a half-bad idea.’_ He was a first-string setter in the first division — a hard-earned spot he eventually managed to claim after getting therapy and medications for his insomnia and depression. He had a career, he had a steady paycheck, he was independent. They’ve been living together for two years now, since Kitiara found a job in an advertising company in Osaka. They were settled and they were in love. They were happy. _He_ was happy.

So he proposed, rather impulsively, honestly. He called Osamu because — well, he didn’t know why, honestly, but there must be a reason for that urge, so he didn’t fight it. Then he called Suna, and then his parents. It was all over the headlines the following day, and he had to answer dozens of messages and emails and calls.

There was silence on Kiyoomi’s end. That was expected. 

He has not spoken to Kiyoomi since that drunken conversation years ago. He still wasn’t sure if he hallucinated it all.

He learned, after several rounds of therapy, that if he ever wanted to heal, he had to stay away from Kiyoomi and Osamu. That was how it was in the beginning, anyway. Lately, his therapist had been trying to warm him up to the idea of talking to them. Telling them how they hurt him. But his heart shied away from the thought, unable to stand the idea of being vulnerable again. Besides, he was in a much better place now, there was no use bringing back old pain.

It wasn’t like Kiyoomi made any effort to stay in touch with him either. The thought ached, but not as much as it would have, years ago. He thought maybe he’d forgiven Kiyoomi. He knew his old friend never meant to hurt him even though that was what he ended up doing. It was just _life_.

And maybe the distance had to happen. For him to move on with his life, he had to move on from Kiyoomi. Kitiara deserved everything he could give, so he was trying to give her that.

So yes, he proposed.

But he did tell Kitiara that he wasn’t sure when they could squeeze in the wedding. The season had just finished, but they had to do preparations amid practices and fan events — before long, another V. League season would begin, and the cycle would start all over again.

“It’s fine, Atsumu, there’s no rush,” Kitiara assured him with a kiss on the cheek. “I’m happy because you’re as good as mine now.”

“Of course I’m yours,” he assured her. She just smiled at him.

They didn’t set a date for the wedding, not for months.

Not until Kiyoomi, fresh from university and bearing the title of collegiate volleyball MVP, appeared in the MSBY Black Jackals tryouts.

Atsumu’s world stopped for a second.

How could he have forgotten how it felt to look at him? He was even more beautiful than ever, and he knew it wasn’t just him now. He grew another couple inches, and with his back straight, he looked imposing. He finally figured out how to keep his hair under control — he was sporting an _undercut_. Even from a distance, his skin looked smooth as porcelain — he must have figured out how to get rid of those pimples he used to whine about. Or maybe it was just age. He was actually, properly _gorgeous_.

And he was looking right at Atsumu.

Feigning normalcy, Atsumu approached him. “Hi, Omi-Omi.”

“Atsumu.” Kiyoomi gave him a smile, small and light and easy. He looked good. “I heard congratulations are in order.”

He was confused for a split second, before he remembered. “Ah — right, yeah, thanks.”

They stared at each other and Atsumu wondered if he felt strange about their sudden reunion, too. He felt like so much went unspoken between them, but also like no time passed at all. But standing there, so close to him after way too long, he realized there was no reason to be afraid of this. This felt natural. He felt... _alright_.

He realized that he missed him.

“Hey, Omi,” he said, sudden excitement flooding him. “You better do well. I want you in my team.” Despite everything, he was still the best spiker he knew.

Kiyoomi cocked an eyebrow at him. “You know as well as I do that I’m practically a shoo-in.”

Atsumu laughed. He hasn’t changed. Impulsively, he crushed him in his arms. “Dammit, I missed you, Omi-Omi.”

Kiyoomi hugged back. “Me, too, stupid Atsu.”

And it was as easy as that.

Kiyoomi got in, naturally. Foster had apparently been waiting for him — he admitted that he had his eyes set on them since they were known as a powerful duo back in high school. He had watched their final Spring High match and he was excited to see what he and Atsumu could do together.

He grinned. If Foster only knew. Atsumu was a damn good setter, and Kiyoomi was a damn good player, but together, they were monsters. They were unstoppable.

Hinata Shouyou completed their lethal lineup after his beach volley stint in Brazil. With Bokuto Koutarou already in the team, Atsumu was spoiled for choice. He was thrilled.

He couldn’t stop talking about it with Kitiara, trying to make her understand the excitement and anticipation he felt for the upcoming season. She interrupted and said, “Atsumu, you’ve done nothing but talk about this for months. There’s something I wanted to ask you.”

He paused. “Yeah?”

“What do you say to a spring wedding next year?”

For some reason, he felt wholly unprepared for that. “Er, it’s fine? But — V. League doesn’t end until March or April…”

“Yeah, I know. I was thinking late spring. End of May? Early June? That’s off-season, and you’d be done with fan events and press interviews by then.”

“Oh.” Well, she seemed to have thought it through. “Alright then.”

“Great. I’m going to start looking for a wedding planner, okay?”

“Already? It’s still a year away.”

Kitiara sighed and shook her head. “Men. Just leave it to me.”

After a few days, the date was set. June 1, 2019.

**Chapter 22**

In the months that followed, he had the honor of getting to know Kiyoomi all over again. And while their deep history was undeniable, it kind of felt like they were able to start fresh. He had missed being Kiyoomi’s friend — _just_ his friend, the way they were before the feelings and the hormones got in the way. They had a dynamic that neither Suna nor Osamu could match — when it was just the two of them, there was no use for pretenses. They bickered and pushed at each other’s boundaries because they knew the other could handle it. They were not the most palatable people and they were often misunderstood — they shared that similarity. And Suna and Osamu always pushed for them to be better people (or at least less shitty people), but neither of them demanded that from the other. He could be his worst self with Kiyoomi and he would be accepted. It was a comforting thought. He didn’t know how he could have gone without it for four years.

Probably because he had Kitiara now. She was the opposite — he made him want to be better, because she deserved nothing less.

A week after reuniting, Kiyoomi walked into their sharehouse’s kitchen for breakfast, a couple hours before practice. Eyes lidded with drowsiness, he patted Atsumu’s hair. “Your hair is properly blonde now.”

He snorted. “Yeah, I’ve had a professional do it.”

“And you finally understand the importance of toner.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let me live that down, will you?”

“Never.”

When they were mid-meal, Atsumu said, “You’re speaking standard Japanese again.”

“Oh.”

“Didya forget all we’ve taught you that fast?”

Kiyoomi rolled his eyes. And then, in Kansai-ben, he said, “I just got used to it, I didn’t even realize.”

Atsumu grinned.

Kiyoomi told him about university — he took up physiotherapy, and Atsumu already knew that, but he never got around to asking why. He asked now. Kiyoomi touched his arm carefully and answered, “Your dislocated elbow still haunts me from time to time.”

He told him about playing the college circuit for the past four years, how the experience helped improve his form and corrected the bad habits he never spotted because Atsumu and Osamu never did either. He talked about living alone, free from his parents, who were back in the hospital they worked at before their transfer.

“It’s nice to be independent, but I suppose I missed the noise,” Kiyoomi said. Atsumu heard the silent _‘I missed you’_ and smiled to himself.

Despite being so standoffish and prickly, Kiyoomi fit right into the team. The ever boisterous Bokuto got along with everyone anyway, and who could resist Hinata’s charm? The latter was thrilled to meet Kiyoomi and Atsumu again because their teams had butted heads during Nationals in high school.

“That’s so cool, you’re still together in the same team after all this time,” Hinata said.

“Longer, actually,” he said. “We’ve known each other since Omi was eight and I was nine.”

Hinata nodded eagerly. “That’s what Coach Ukai told us back then! Before we fought you!”

Inunaki butted in, “Wait, really? I thought you were just high school friends.”

“Unfortunately, I’ve had to deal with him most of my life,” Kiyoomi said, long-suffering.

“I read about that, when Atsumu first joined the team,” Meian mused. “I dug up your old Volleyball Weekly features. I did wonder if you were ever coming, Sakusa-kun.”

Kiyoomi shrugged. “Well, I’m here.” He glanced at Atsumu. “Power Duo, remember?”

Atsumu smiled sharply, thrilled.

“How come in the interviews, you always said Sakusa-kun was your spiker?” Meian asked. “And not your twin?”

The question caught him off-guard, and he was suddenly thrown back to sophomore year, when Osamu told him he was quitting volleyball after high school. He shook himself. “He never really had the same drive as me and Omi-kun. We both loved volleyball a little bit more than he did.”

“Aw, I wish I had a childhood friend, too,” Bokuto said. “And then we’d just play volleyball together through the years, and all the years to come!”

In November, he and Kiyoomi played their first official match together in four years, and it was against the defending champions: the Schweiden Adlers. The most exciting part was that they were facing familiar faces: Ushijima, Hoshiumi, and Kageyama.

It brought him back to good times.

It was clear that the years only made them hungrier for power and victory as the game turned into a showdown, not a single player on the court giving an inch. But in the end, they emerged victorious — not just in that game but the entire V. League Season.

Playing with Kiyoomi woke something up in him: a long-forgotten feeling of just _clicking_ with someone. They were apart for a long time, but that apparently didn’t matter on the court — they were as attuned to each other as ever, perhaps even more now that they’ve both had more experience and could match each other in power and skill. He found himself dredging up old plays that only he and Kiyoomi knew, muscles following familiar movements, a deep satisfaction curling in his gut when they earned a point. And when Kiyoomi smiled at him, the warm feeling spread. He was careful not to dwell on that. 

And he was careful not to ask him about Osamu. He didn’t want to know; he’d let all that go. It was best not to pick on the scabs. He kept his eyes focused on his future.

It was one December night that he went home to find Kitiara sealing wedding invitations for their friends and family. They’d had some disagreements about the details of the wedding — Kitiara wanted a big one, Atsumu was content with just their closest friends and families. Kitiara wanted a destination wedding, Atsumu wanted to hold it in his hometown. Kitiara wanted all the glitz and glamour, Atsumu wanted something more traditional.

“Atsumu,” she finally said, exasperated. “Can’t you let me have this? You know my mom grew up in America, she and Dad got married there. She wants to pull out all the stops, and that’s my dream wedding, too, okay?”

He understood that — Kitiara and her family only moved from California to Japan right before she started high school. She must have grown up dreaming up a wedding much like the ones she’d seen on television.

Groaning, he admitted defeat. “Alright. Make it as big and glamorous as you want. But I really want to hold it in Amagasaki.”

“Fine.” She smiled like he played right into her palms. He probably did. Again. Then she casually asked, “I suppose we’re inviting Kiyoomi?”

“Yeah, of course.” He thought she was probably worried, because she was there for the worst of his mental breakdown. But it was still rather unacceptable to overlook one of his teammates when the rest of them were getting invites. He’d told her they were on good terms already.

“I mean... you haven’t spoken the past few years. I thought you’d drifted apart.”

“Yeah, but we’re teammates now.” He frowned at her. “And despite everything, he’s one of the most important people in my life. I need him to be there.”

“Don’t I know it,” she said, smiling. Then she turned away. “I’m feeling rather jittery, I’m getting a drink.”

“Again?” Atsumu has noticed she’s been indulging in wine a lot more lately. “If you’re stressed about the wedding planning —”

“I’m not,” she interrupted. “It’s the opposite, I’m too excited, I can’t relax. Don’t you wanna join me?” She gave him a syrupy glance, resting her palms on his chest.

He grimaced. “You know I’d rather not.” After his insomniac phase, he’d been wary of alcohol. He wasn’t an alcoholic by any means, but he associated it with a bad time in his life. He didn’t mind being in the presence of others who do, though. He rarely ever indulged, and when he did he never had more than a glass, usually only during social functions.

She sighed. “Right. Fine. I’m sending these,” she gestured to the invitations, “out in a few days.”

And so the plan was set: they’ll go back to Amagasaki in the last week of May. They’ll return to their respective childhood homes, reunite with their families, and prepare for the wedding. They were pulling out all the stops, like Kitiara wanted: there’ll be a bachelor party, a bachelorette party, a dinner rehearsal, and then the actual ceremony, followed by the reception.

Atsumu was cringing just thinking about it, but this was a sacrifice he’d have to make.

One week with his family. What could go wrong?

**Chapter 23**

Atsumu stepped out of Amagasaki station and was immediately awash with nostalgia. He hadn’t visited in way too long. In fact, he barely did, ever since he left to pursue professional volleyball.

He dropped off Kitiara on another platform, because she had to take a local line to her family’s house. Her parents insisted they slept apart because of “tradition” but he secretly thought they were in denial of their daughter’s...bedtime activities with Atsumu.

He gave her a perfunctory kiss, said he’ll see her later, and exited the station. His house was a bit of a walk from there, and he was loaded down with luggage, but he wanted to savor the familiarity.

Amagasaki hasn’t really changed. Their old haunts were still there, though they clearly underwent renovations. He walked past the neighbor’s pink car, the colorful garden, and paused when he didn’t see the English bulldog. _He must be in dog heaven now_ , he realized with a pang. Kiyoomi would be upset about that. Why did time have to pass? Why did things have to change?

But when he arrived at his childhood home to find Suna, Kiyoomi, and Osamu lounging in the living room, he thought maybe some things could stay the same.

He couldn’t help the grin. “What the fuck are you guys doing here?”

Suna gestured to the colorful stack on the coffee table. “Uno Stacko. Duh.”

He shook his head, feeling warm. “I’m gonna drop my shit in my room.”

“Our room,” Osamu corrected. They stared at each other, unsmiling. It was the first time they were seeing each other in person since high school graduation. Atsumu wondered if his twin was also thinking of how to get through this unscathed.

“Our room,” he finally said. He went on his way. Said room was still as empty as they left it, but the sheets looked fresh. Osamu’s bags were in the corner, and he dumped his own beside them. Then he went in search of his parents, who turned out to be drinking iced tea in the garden.

“My baby!” his mother wailed dramatically. She opened her arms in a silent demand and he approached and obediently hugged her. “How was the trip?”

“It’s a half-hour train ride away,” he answered drily. “It was fine.”

“Then why don’t you visit more often?”

Ah. He let himself fall into that trap.

His father patted him on the shoulder. “Welcome home, son.”

When he returned to the living room, he placed a hand on Kiyoomi’s curls and ruffled. Kiyoomi jerked away, irritated. “Get off.”

“Why didn’t you take the train with us, Omi-Omi? You should have told me you were planning to come home, too.”

Kiyoomi shrugged. “I wasn’t really planning on coming this early, but Suna said he was going, so now we’re all here. We’ll help with the wedding preparations.”

“Will you now.”

“Not really. I’ll watch as you all suffer.”

Atsumu snorted. That was more like it.

“Hope you’re ready for your bachelor’s party,” Suna said, grinning mischievously.

That did not bode well. But he trusted Suna not to go too crazy.

For now, he sat on the floor beside them and joined in playing Uno Stacko. They laughed and argued and bickered and it was like no time had passed. Like they never hurt each other at all. Atsumu’s smile was genuine, warm. He’d missed this. They were going to be here for nine days. It felt like borrowed time, but it was more than enough.

Later that night, when he and Osamu were in their respective beds, he asked, “Hey, isn’t it weird you’re leaving your store the entire week?” Osamu had kickstarted his own shop, Onigiri Miya, about two years ago. He had a branch in Kobe, and it was doing pretty well, from what Atsumu could tell. He learned all this through second-hand info, and Twitter.

“I let my staff handle it. I’ve hired new people recently.”

“Good for you, then.”

“I mean, my twin only gets married once. I wanted to be here.”

“Did you now.”

“I did. Look, Tsumu…”

He tensed at the softness of Osamu’s voice. He said, “I’m tired. I better sleep, I still have errands to run tomorrow.”

Osamu sighed. “Alright.”

The next day, he dug around for Osamu’s keys and called out a “Yo, Samu, I’m taking your pick up” to his sleeping twin, before jogging out the door. He was going to collect his tux from a shop in Kobe, get a haircut, all the while breaking in his wedding shoes, which Kitiara said was necessary. Alright, then.

He didn’t know why he did it. But when he reached the end of their street, he turned left instead of right. Was it habit? Was it nostalgia? Before he knew it, he was parked outside the Sakusas’ home, which they never sold. Kiyoomi said his parents were thinking of retiring there one day.

He fished out his phone and texted Kiyoomi a simple, “Get up, I’m outside, help me with errands.”

He only had to wait for fifteen minutes before a dishevelled looking Kiyoomi entered the passenger’s seat, looking grumpy. “A warning would have been nice.”

“Well, did you have plans?”

His pout told Atsumu _‘no.’_

They drove with the windows down, songs from the radio filling the comfortable silence between them. It was only a half-hour drive to their destination, and before he knew it, they were outside the shop. He parked the truck, and they hopped out.

“Atsumu-sama,” the head tailor greeted him. This was an appointment, so he was expected.

They did a final fitting for his tuxedo. It had been a struggle, maintaining his current build — he had to avoid losing weight or getting bulky so he’d fit the damn thing perfectly. Looking at himself in the mirror, he thought he did rather well.

He turned towards Kiyoomi, arms spread. “Well?”

Kiyoomi ran his eyes across Atsumu’s body, head to toe. He nodded wordlessly.

He faced the tailor. “Guess we’re good to go.”

He messaged Kit to say he got his tux, and got a thumbs up emoji in return. He hung his clothes in the backseat and started the drive back to Amagasaki, planning to head over to his old barber. He had just touched up his hair, so all that’s needed now was a little trim.

On the way back, Kiyoomi suddenly said, “Guess it’s happening. You’re really gonna get married.”

“Guess I am. Kinda weird to think about.”

“It is. Feels like it was just yesterday when we were biking to the Cemetery. Where did the time go?”

Atsumu chanced a glance at him, catching the way his curls swept over his forehead with the force of the wind. He looked lost in thought.

“What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing, really. I just can’t believe it all went by so fast. It’s going...too fast.”

Atsumu frowned at the road ahead of them. “Are you okay? What’s this about?”

He could feel Kiyoomi’s gaze on his face. “I — Atsu, can we go somewhere? There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

“Er, sure? Where?”

Hesitantly, Kiyoomi asked, “Cemetery?”

He smiled, nostalgic. He hasn’t been to the Cemetery in years and years. Not since he left for high school, maybe even before that. “Alright. After my haircut.”

But after his haircut, Kitiara called. “Atsumu, come over here. We have to finalize the guestlist and confirm with the guests one last time.”

“Now? I was going to —”

“Going to what?” Kitiara snapped. She’s been moody lately, and Atsumu thought she was taking the bridezilla thing too far. He’d learned by now that he should just keep his mouth shut.

“Nothing, I was just going to hang out with Omi, but —”

“You can’t,” she said flatly. “Come over here, now.” Then she hung up.

He sighed. “I’m sorry, Omi-Omi,” he said, glancing at Kiyoomi. “Raincheck? What about tomorrow?”

Face unreadable, Kiyoomi just said, “Okay.”

They never got to have that conversation, because Kitiara kept him on a close leash. She went around snapping at people, yelling at the phone, even yelling at her parents, who tried to appease her.

“Everything’s going just fine,” her mother, Aiya, soothed. She frowned at Atsumu. “Can’t you help?”

He stared at her helplessly. Help _how_?

By the time the night of his bachelor’s party arrived, he was relieved. “Oh god,” he moaned, collapsing on Suna’s lap in his childhood room. “Save me. Take me away. Right now, let’s go. Let’s party, let’s get drunk.”

Suna snorted. “Thought you didn’t want it to be too wild.”

“I changed my mind. Kit is going absolutely feral, I keep thinking she’ll rip my head off anytime. I need a break.”

“We’ll go in an hour,” Suna assured. “Things will be ready by then. You can take a nap?”

Nap sounded good. When Suna woke him up, he staggered down to the living room and had the scare of his life when he was greeted by loud shouts. Heart pounding, he stared speechlessly at his old Inarizaki team and his teammates from the MSBY Black Jackals.

He grinned. “You jerks! Ya scared me to death!”

He went around the room, receiving back pats and hugs. “Still can’t believe this,” Aran said.

“Believe it,” Osamu told him, bored. “Come on, let’s get this party started.”

The party turned out to be in a bar, which Suna had reserved just for them. “Nothing too crazy, like I said,” Suna shrugged. “But we totally have to get you drunk.”

Touched by the gesture, he reached out and hugged him. “You’re the best.”

“And don’t ya forget it.”

The night _was_ wild — it was impossible that it wouldn’t be, because Bokuto, Hinata, Suna, and Ginjima were all thrown into the mix. It wasn’t long before his head was spinning and he found himself needing to take a breather. He’d only had three shots, but his tolerance was extremely low. He stumbled out to the balcony and tried to let the cool night air sober him up.

“Drunk already?”

He turned to face his twin, whom he didn’t even realize was there. “Of course not.”

Osamu snorted. “Sure.”

They stood together in tense silence, looking out into the night.

“Tsumu, I meant to ask. Are you sure about this?”

Irritation pricked at his chest. “Why do people keep asking me that?” Suna had asked the same question, when he first told him he had proposed.

“Do you love her?”

“Of course I love her.” He scowled at Osamu. What kind of idiotic question was that?

“So you just love Omi more?”

He stilled. Held his breath.

Osamu gazed down at the streets below. “I just find it odd. You never really talked about it, but I knew you loved him. It wasn’t some high school crush thing, it was a love of your life kind of thing. Right? I mean that’s what all the hating me was about, isn’t it? All these years.”

In a dangerous whisper, he asked, “Why are you bringing this up now?”

“We never talked about it. It’s high time, isn’t it? It’s all I’ve been thinking about since you told me you were engaged. It just doesn’t add up to me, given your personality. After everything, you’re gonna go off and marry someone else?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be glad about that?” Anger was starting to brew in his chest. _Danger_ , his mind warned. _Calm down_. “You love him, too. Made sure you got there first. Made sure I knew it.”

“And you gave me your blessing.” The truth of the words cut through his paper-thin walls.

“The fuck was I supposed to do?” he snapped. “Unlike you, I considered our relationship. I wasn’t fucking selfish enough to ruin all of us like you two did.”

Osamu’s eyes were dark with anger. “We did no such thing. You were the one who pulled away.”

“Because _you_ made sure I knew I wasn't wanted! You knew exactly what you were doing! How the hell was I supposed to react when the two most important people to me were off in their own world, leaving me behind, huh? Chase after you? Beg for attention? I got it okay, you won. You wanted him, you got him, and you ruined me in the process. Congratulations, fuck!”

“It’s not my fault you never fought for him!” Osamu snapped back. “You might as well have handed him to me on a silver platter! When did you become a martyr and a coward, huh? I thought you’d put up more of a fight but you never even tried. You just let him go like you didn’t give a fuck.”

“Do you fucking hear yourself? Did you _want_ me to complicate things for you?” He was legitimately confused. He used to know Osamu better than he knew himself, but that wasn’t the case anymore.

“No!” Osamu yelled. “I just think it’s not fucking fair that you’d hate me and avoid me for four goddamn years because I had the nerve to like the same boy, when _you_ never lifted a single finger! I made myself clear to you. I told you I was going to go after him and you said _fine_! And I’ve tried and tried to talk to you the past few years but you always brushed me off and acted like I committed a goddamn _murder_. And —” Osamu’s voice broke. “And I’ve wanted to tell you for so damn long —”

“ _What_?’

“That I’m sorry!” he shouted. His eyes were shiny with tears. “I’m sorry I liked him, okay? I’m sorry I wanted to fucking win against you for once. When you didn’t even bother to contest it, I thought I had a chance, but fuck. I didn’t, not even for a damn second.”

“What?” he asked again, heart in his throat.

“He never liked me, okay? He turned me down. Twice.” Osamu laughed sardonically. “He didn’t see _me_ that way. He cut all contact with me after he left for university, and that was it. I lost my best friend, I lost my brother. Yippee.”

His thoughts were in shambles due to the new information. He wasn’t ready to hear that. He didn’t know what to do with that. “You were never together?”

“No.” Osamu rolled his eyes, brushing a fist under his nose. “You just assumed that.”

“The fuck was I supposed to think?” he demanded. His brain was frantically flipping through buried memories, trying to make sense of the past with the new revelation. “You couldn’t have told me?”

“When exactly? When you were avoiding me like the plague? When you refused to even talk to me although we lived in the same room? I thought if I dared to mention his name you’d kill me on the spot. And it wasn’t like I was eager to tell you I’d lost, okay? And what did it matter, anyway? You already had Kitiara.”

The name was a slap to his face, waking him up. What was he doing picking at old wounds? All of it was moot.

It was too late.

The ensuing silence was heavy. It pressed against him, making it hard to breathe.

And then the sliding door opened, and they whirled around to see a wide-eyed Hinata. “Uh, we heard shouting,” he said, hushed. His eyes trailed to Atsumu. “Are you okay, Atsumu-san?”

“Of course, Shouyou-kun.”

“You’re crying.”

“Oh.” He touched his wet cheeks. “I’m drunk, just kinda emotional.”

He nodded, looking unconvinced. “Suna-san is looking for you.”

“Tell him I’ll be right there.”

“Okay.” Hinata shut the door again.

He patted his face dry. What was it about his brother that just breaks through all his defenses? He knew just how to get to him. One moment they could be having a halfway decent conversation, the next they were yelling and crying. It was the story of their goddamn lives, except the fights just got worse over time. There was no fixing them anymore. They’d caused too many wounds, and this was the one cut Atsumu couldn’t let heal. The frustration and hopelessness made him want to curl into a ball and weep.

Osamu tried, “Tsumu —”

“Save it. None of that fucking matters anymore. I’m getting married, I’m starting a new life, hopefully one without you. Goodbye, Samu.”

**Chapter 24**

He cracked his eyes open and groaned. His head was pounding, his throat was dry, and his eyes felt swollen. This was a feeling he did not miss at all.

“You back among the living?” he heard Suna ask.

He slowly turned his head to see Suna standing by the doorway. Oh. He was in his room.

“I feel like shit,” he croaked out.

“I mean, you really went on a bender last night,” Suna said. “I get that it was your bachelor’s party, but it kinda stopped being fun when you started being an ass to everyone.”

“What?”

Suna shrugged. “Dunno, you were just picking fights and grabbing every drink you set your eyes on. I dragged you back here and you just kept crying the whole time.”

Hazy memories surfaced and he shied away. “I don’t remember that shit. Whatever.”

After studying him for a moment, Suna looked away. “Omi was calling. He’s looking for you.”

“Oh. Yeah, he’s been wanting to tell me something. Shit.” He didn’t know how to feel about seeing him. So he found out the man he’d pined and cried over in the past had apparently turned down his brother. What does it matter now? There was no relief knowing it. Everything was still the same. In a few days, he’ll marry Kitiara, they’ll go on their honeymoon, then he’ll play more volleyball. The life he’d chosen will continue on as normal.

So why did he feel so unsettled?

His brother wasn’t at home but his pick up truck was out front. He took a shower, stole the keys, and drove to Kiyoomi’s house, sending him a message.

Kiyoomi seemed to be waiting for him, because it only took a minute before he was in the passenger’s seat, studying him. “You look like shit.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“If you die because of liver failure, I’ll never forgive you.”

He snorted. “I rarely even drink anymore, you know this.” He pulled at the gearshift and started driving a familiar route.

“We’re going to the Cemetery?”

“Yeah, you said you wanted to tell me something?”

“Ah. It can wait until after your wedding, it’s not...urgent. But I do want to go there.”

He shrugged. He needed a break anyway. An afternoon in their old hiding place sounded perfect. He’d already told Kitiara that he was recovering from a hangover. She didn’t even reply.

When they got there, he laid down the blankets and pillows he’d packed. Kiyoomi raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you just planning to nap here?”

“Yes,” he said, daring him to challenge him. “I’m still fucked up from last night okay, I need my beauty sleep.”

He just got an eye roll in return. He collapsed on the ground, thankful for the pleasant weather. He’d missed this place.

“There are snacks in my bag,” he murmured. “Gonna pass out in a sec.”

A hand smoothed down his hair. “Okay. Goodnight.”

He returned to consciousness unhurriedly. Dimly, he recognized that the sky was still bright, and he hazily watched the trees above them sway lightly.

There’s a space between sleep and wakefulness, a moment where everything feels like a dream, even though you know it isn’t. The middle place. Atsumu liked that place. He could hear the quiet sounds of nature all around him and he wanted to freeze time.

He was holding a sleeping Kiyoomi in his arms.

At some point, the other man had curled around him and his head was tucked under Atsumu’s chin, an arm slung around his waist. Atsumu impulsively hugged him tighter, a feeling building and building inside him until he felt like he was unraveling. Until he was wide awake, unable to deny his thoughts any further.

The thing about living with unrequited love is that you get used to it. It doesn’t, in any way, stop the world from turning. It doesn't disrupt your daily life. It doesn’t stop you from loving someone else. You carry it with you and for the most part, it’s dormant. It becomes a part of you.

Atsumu knew this.

But apparently, all it took to revive that spark into a raging fire was a smile. A glance. A cocked eyebrow, an “Atsu,” a smug smirk. A hand tugging at the back of his shirt. A hand touching his hair.

The feeling of waking up with the love of his life in his arms for the first time in his life.

Because that’s what Kiyoomi was, wasn’t it? Osamu was right about that. Time helped ease the burden, but there was no burying it. Kiyoomi was embedded in every corner of his life, there was no escaping him. But he had been _fine_. He had gone through all the motions of grieving over someone — he managed to go weeks without a single thought of Kiyoomi, and sure, sometimes all it took was an old song, or a children’s show to remind him. But that was just something he had to live with. He was fine. He moved on.

Why now? Why did he have to find out _now_?

His brain picked apart Osamu’s words. _‘He didn’t see_ me _that way.’_ The way he said it meant there was someone Kiyoomi did see that way back then.

 _‘I wanted to fucking win against_ you _for once. I thought I had a chance, but I didn’t.’_

The implications haunted him. He thought of the many times Kiyoomi said he wanted to tell Atsumu something, and he wondered why he never heard him out. He thought of the way Kiyoomi clung to him even when Osamu was supposedly dating him. He thought of his hatred for Kitiara, and the way he looked when he caught Atsumu with Suna.

_‘Who is it harming?’_

_‘You have no fucking idea, do you?’_

And the night before he left for Tokyo, when he looked at Atsumu in that hurt way he used to when he was younger, a silent plea for help _— ‘It’s starting to really hurt.’_

He thought with dawning horror, _‘Maybe he loves me.’_

Just how many chances did he miss?

He closed his eyes as the what-ifs started flooding in.

What if he’d let go of the anger he’d felt over the whole thing with Ushijima? What if he’d said, _‘Oh, I’m into guys, too, wanna try dating me?’_

What if he’d never hooked up with Suna? What if he’d never accepted Kitiara’s confession? What if he’d made a move before Osamu made his? Or hell, what if he’d said, _‘Fuck you, Samu, I’m gonna fight you for him’_?

What if he didn’t lash out? What if he didn’t react so immaturely and just talked to Kiyoomi and Osamu? What if he never dealt the final blow to their collapsing relationships?

He wished they never learned to fight. He wished they never learned to hurt each other.

Kiyoomi stirred and Atsumu had no time to pull himself together before he was looking up at him. His eyes were drowsy and unfocused, and he frowned upon seeing his face. Kiyoomi lifted a hand and touched his cheek. “Atsu doesn’t cry.”

He cried harder. He choked out, “I had a bad dream, that’s all.”

“Oh.” He rested his cheek against Atsumu’s chest and hugged him with one arm, hand running up and down his back. “S’okay. It’s just a dream.”

But it wasn’t. It was real life and it was very quickly turning into a nightmare.

Because it was suddenly clear to him that he never in his life wanted to let go of Kiyoomi. And maybe, _just maybe_ , Kiyoomi didn’t want to let go of him either.

**Chapter 25**

He only got to see Kitiara again at the dinner rehearsals. She seemed much calmer — the wedding was going to happen in just a handful of hours, so everything was in place.

Kitiara looked resplendent in her white evening gown. She smiled at Atsumu, and he smiled back, relieved. It didn’t look like they’d be fighting tonight. He approached her and gave her a kiss, his stomach squirming with what felt like guilt.

“Let’s go to our seats,” she said, tugging him along. “Mom and Dad are going to make a speech.”

He looked around the room — their guests were already seated. He could spot his parents sitting with Kiyoomi’s parents at one table. Kiyoomi was seated with their old Inarizaki teammates, while the Black Jackals commandeered their own table, along with Foster. The rest of the guests were comprised of Kitiara’s family, her college ‘girlfriends,’ her high school best friends (whom he really should know but doesn’t remember), and some errant cousins.

If this was just their closest friends and families, he winced at imagining the audience at the wedding ceremony. He knew their guestlist reached 150 people, but he didn’t really have many to invite over on his side.

Kitiara’s parents greeted the guests, and made a short speech about looking forward to their union. Then they all dug into the food served.

It was when the floor was opened to speeches that things started falling apart.

The maid of honor and the best man were saving their big moment for the reception, so Suna was spared. But apparently, a lot of people had something to say.

The free-flowing wine was truly a bad idea.

At first it was just some long-winded speeches from Kitiara’s siblings (“she was so crazy about Atsumu, she was obsessed for years, can’t believe she got the guy”), and then a well-meaning but mortifying speech from Bokuto (“Tsumutsumu is the best setter ever, so he deserves the best life ever.”)

And then, one of their old high school classmates stood up and said, “Atsumu doesn’t deserve you, but I guess the heart wants what it wants. I understand he’s hot, but he was literally the shittiest boyfriend, I mean the amount of times I’ve seen you cry — anyway, I’m really hoping he won’t be such a shitty husband.”

He glared at his friends when he saw them choking down laughter. Suna took a gulp of wine.

And then Osamu said, “Omi-kun, you should make a speech.”

Their teammates — old and new — latched on to the idea and cheered.

“You’ve known him the longest, aside from Samu!’ Bokuto said. “You gotta do it.”

Suna pushed and shoved at Kiyoomi until he reluctantly stood up.

Frowning, Kiyoomi said, “I’m not good at speeches.” He hesitated. “I did prepare a letter for Atsumu, but he was supposed to read it tomorrow.”

Now he was curious. “Read it for us, Omi-Omi,” he encouraged.

Kiyoomi gazed at him, then at Kitiara. Then he pursed his lips and slipped a hand inside the inside of his blazer. He pulled out a piece of paper and opened it.

For a moment, he just stood there and stared at what he’d written, looking at war with himself. Then he cleared his throat and started speaking.

“Dear Atsumu,” he began. “Today, you’re starting a new life. I can’t say I ever imagined you married, because my mind is unable to comprehend that there is someone in the world who could stand you and all that comes with you.”

There were chuckles across the room, and Atsumu couldn’t help but smile.

“This whole thing has been a struggle for me to comprehend — the entire idea of building a life and home with someone of your choosing. Probably because my life and home were already set in stone years and years ago, when I was eight and you were nine.”

The smile slipped from his face as his heart clenched almost violently.

“I was crying because I was lost in this big new world, but you found me. You said that if I can't find my home, then you’ll take me to yours. And you did. And over time I learned that home isn’t a place, but a collection of memories and feelings that were meant to be fleeting but managed to imprint themselves in me forever. It’s my mother’s katsudon, and my father’s steady hands. It's Suna’s horrid singing, and Osamu’s bear hugs.

“And for all the pain and struggles and disagreements that the years battered us with, home will always be the annoyingly bright boy that I followed everywhere — from the walk to school to rollerskating in the rink, to biking to the Cemetery, and even the foray into volleyball.

“Atsu, I want to say that I’m happy for you, but in all reality...I’m heartbroken. Because for once, there is no possibility that I can follow you here. But this is said in all selfishness, because I was always the one who needed you most, to save me from the mean kids in the playground, and to take my hand and help me through it all. You were my hero. You were my most favorite person in the world. And I...loved you.

“But we’re not kids any longer. And as we grew up, I got used to you leaving me behind. You have never needed anyone, that’s just how you are. Still, it comforts me to know that with Kitiara by your side, I won’t ever have to worry about you being alone. She makes you happy, and that’s enough for me. I know you’ll be just fine. You always are. Congratulations on your wedding.” Kiyoomi hesitated. Then he forced himself to finish. “Love...Omi-Omi.”

Atsumu’s tears were steadily running down his cheeks and dripping from his jaw. He didn’t know when he started crying, but he knew he couldn’t stop. He stared at Kiyoomi, heart seizing hard enough to make him wonder if he was dying.

Aran cleared his throat and started clapping his hands, breaking the ringing silence. Others joined in on the applause half-heartedly and Kiyoomi sat down stiffly. Atsumu looked across the room at Osamu, who looked back. He had tear tracks on his face.

Suna downed a glass of wine. From the corner of his eye, he saw Kitiara do the same. He turned his head and watched her watch Kiyoomi.

“Wipe your face,” Kitiara said lightly, without looking at him.

Remembering himself, he bowed his head and dried his cheeks with a napkin.

Kitiara’s father, Masashi, stood up and said, “Well, we’re having an early start tomorrow. Our princess needs her beauty sleep, so allow us to say goodnight. Again, thank you all for coming.” He turned to Kitiara. “Let’s go, sweetheart.”

“Kit —” Atsumu began.

Waving her hand in a sharp motion, Kitiara just said, “I’ll call you later before I sleep, Atsumu. There’s still a lot to be done, Mom is gonna put flexi-rods in my hair before bed. Don’t stay out too late, you can’t look tired in the photos.”

Before he could even respond, Kitiara was being ushered out by her parents. With the party officially over, other guests started to peter out.

Atsumu’s friends and family stayed.

After a truly awkward silence, Atsumu’s mother said, “That was sweet.”

His father cleared this throat. “Yes, definitely. You always were...close.”

Atsumu’s eyes trailed over to Kiyoomi, who looked like he’d mentally tapped out. He was staring off into space, face blank.

“So,” Suna said, his eyes flicking across the room. “This is still free-flowing wine, right? We should — celebrate, one last time. To Atsumu.” He raised a glass.

“Celebrate what,” Osamu said, looking disbelieving now. “Celebrate my brother's impending nuptials with a woman he’ll always consider second-best?”

Silence.

“Osamu,” Atsumu said dangerously. “Shut. The fuck. Up.”

“I am trying to help,” Osamu said, sounding aggrieved. “I am trying to _fix things_.”

“Things that you broke.” He couldn’t help himself. He’d blamed Osamu for such a long time.

Suna downed that glass, too.

Osamu scoffed. “Not this again.”

“You wanted to talk, didn’t you? Why don’t you come up here? Let’s talk.”

“Boys —” their father began.

But Osamu had already shoved himself up from his chair and was storming towards Atsumu. Ready for a fight, he stood up, too, and was immediately seized by Osamu by the collar.

“I am so sick of having to be the bigger person all the damn time,” his twin hissed at his face. “This is how it always is, huh, you’re always wronged, and I always have to bend. _You_ always get your way and _I_ have to sacrifice!”

Atsumu gripped his wrists tight enough to bruise. “Let. Go. Of. Me.”

“Boys!” he heard their mother call out, sounding alarmed.

Kiyoomi approached, grabbing Osamu by the back of his coat and dragging him away. He snapped, “What is wrong with you two? You have to do this now?” 

Suna appeared too, gripping Atsumu’s shoulder. Holding him back. “You two need to calm the hell down. You can talk about this like adults.”

Aggressively running a hand through his hair, Osamu said, “Strictly speaking, we could have talked about this like adults anytime in the past four years, if you all weren’t busy treating me like a damn pariah.” He gazed at the three of them.

“Don’t drag us into this,” Suna warned, eyes narrowing.

“But you’re part of the problem,” Osamu said. “You can claim that you’re Switzerland all you want, but you’ve always been on his side.”

Offended on behalf of his best friend, Atsumu snapped, “Leave him out of this. The problem is between you and me.”

“You mean, mostly me, right? Because that’s all you learned to do our whole lives, put the blame on me.”

He couldn’t help but cock an eyebrow. “I mean, if the shoe fits.”

Osamu laughed sardonically. “After all this time. Seriously, Tsumu? You know I find it so strange that you blame me for everything, when Omi-kun was right there with us the whole time.”

Kiyoomi frowned. Atsumu said, “I told you, the problem —”

“But he _is_ the problem!” Osamu burst out. “Isn’t it? Isn’t he the cause of all our goddamn problems? Just admit that you’ve loved him your whole life and that you couldn’t handle the fact that _I_ made the first move. Just admit that you don’t like anyone trying to take away your _precious Omi-Omi_ even though you had no rights to him, _none_.”

He saw red. For Osamu to expose him like that — to everyone, and to Kiyoomi —

A strong arm wrapped around his chest from behind, catching him just as he charged for Osamu.

“Atsumu,” Aran snapped, his deep voice vibrating against his back. “Knock it off.”

“Oh,” he scoffed. “It’s _my_ fault again? Why does no one ever blame Osamu, huh, he’s the one who fucking keeps starting shit!”

“And you’re the one who keeps taking things too far!” Osamu yelled, temper snapping. Kita was there now, too, gripping Osamu’s arm. But Osamu was not to be stopped. “I watched it all happen, remember? You see him kiss Ushijima, so you sleep with Rin. You see him kiss _me_ , and you sleep with half the student body. Then you fuck off out of our lives and get a girlfriend and you disappear for four — goddamn — _years_ , and now you’re getting fucking married and rubbing it all on our faces? Oh, I get it, you’re living the good life, you got everything you ever wanted, you won it all. But if you’re so over it, then why couldn’t you _look at me_?”

Atsumu was looking now. He glared at his twin hatefully, rage thundering in his chest.

Quieter now, Osamu said, “It was one kiss. We were _seventeen_. Just how deep can your goddamn grudge go? Deep enough to ruin us?”

“So as usual _I’m_ the petty one, I’m the immature one, I’m the one who didn’t do enough, I’m the one who didn’t do _anything right_ ,” he snapped. “And where were you through all this, huh, Osamu? I’ve made many mistakes, but you can’t possibly be saying you’re blameless in all this —"

“I’m not saying I didn’t make my own mistakes, but don’t blame your cowardice and inaction on me —”

“But you _knew_! And you just couldn’t just let me have anything, could you, Samu? I make a friend, and you make him your best friend. I have a crush, and you make the first move. I want to play volleyball, you do, too. I want to change my hair, and fucking surprise — you do, too! And you can tell yourself that I was the one who fucked off, but you _know_ you left me behind first. It was always supposed to be the three of us, but you _took that away_ from me too!”

“Enough!” Kita finally snapped. Old habits kicked hard and they clicked their mouths shut, cheeks flushing.

In the shocked silence, he could hear his mother sobbing, and shame started to sink in.

And then, in a soft voice, Kiyoomi asked, “So that’s what it was all about?” They snapped their heads in his direction. He had a strange look on his face. “All this time, I’ve been in the middle of a tug-of-war between you two?’’

“That’s not how it was — ”

“Shut up.” Kiyoomi gave him a look that could kill. He shut his mouth. “I am so sick of the two of you and you goddamn phases and moods. Dealing with the two of you is like playing pinwheel every fucking day, but you —” He jabbed a finger at Atsumu. “You’re the _worst_ . You love me, you hate me. One day, you’re my friend, the next day I’m your enemy. You tell me I’m your favorite person, then you tell me I make you sick.” Kiyoomi blinked rapidly. “I should have fucking known it wasn’t me. I was just caught in the crossfires of your stupid, lifelong _rivalry_.”

“It’s not _like that_.” Frustration clawed at him. He wanted to tear at his hair. 

“You always made me wonder what the hell I kept doing to set you off. You’re telling me all this time it was _Osamu_? I’m not a fucking toy. I don’t belong to either of you. There’s a reason I left.”

Atsumu didn’t want to make things worse with Kiyoomi, he really didn’t. But the reminder brought out a wave of old pain and betrayal. “Right. So you left because you couldn’t deal with us. Is that why you also cut me off like you didn’t give a damn?”

“Don’t make accusations when you have no idea —”

“Then tell me, because it’s been driving me mad the past few years. You didn’t even tell me you were leaving, I thought we were going to go pro together. That’s what we _said_. That’s what we fucking agreed on! Power Duo, remember? Why’d you fucking _leave_?”

“Because I needed to get away from you!” Kiyoomi yelled, and the words ground the pieces of his already shattered heart. “You — you just have _no idea_. You think you had it bad, Atsu? You will never understand the constant torment I've been in since we were _fifteen_. You put me through _hell_. And it hurt me to leave, but it hurt me to stay, so what was I supposed to do?” He expelled a breath. “I just needed to learn how to be me without you. I’m so tired of you.”

He thought, with increasing alarm and dread, _‘He loves me.’_ What the hell was he supposed to do with that _now_? “Omi…”

“Don’t _Omi_ me. Figure this out yourselves. I’m out of here.”

He whirled on his heel and started stalking away.

For a moment, Atsumu was frozen. Then seized by panic, he jerked into motion, escaping from Aran and Suna’s slack grip.

“Omi!” He started to jog after him. “Omi, _wait_.”

Outside in the night air, Kiyoomi spun around and slapped a piece of paper on his chest. Atsumu reflexively caught it. “My confession letter,” Kiyoomi said tiredly. “Eight years in the making. Maybe even longer.”

Atsumu’s heart thumped painfully. He stared at Kiyoomi, throat tight, suddenly terrified of what’s coming.

“I ran out of time,” Kiyoomi told him, eyes wet with tears. Atsumu wanted to reach out and comfort him, but he couldn’t move. He wanted to clap his hands over his ears, he wanted to run away. “I always thought I’d have all the time in the world, that I’d get my chance, but now I know I’m not getting one. Maybe I never had one.”

“Omi —” he said, panicked.

“I feel like I keep missing you every damn time. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t do this. This might be out of line, but I need to tell you that I love you. I’m sorry.”

And there it was, the biggest mystery in his life answered too late. “Omi,” he choked out. The lump in his throat was strangling him.

“I kept waiting for you.” Kiyoomi’s voice was so soft, almost unreal. “You were always the one leading me, ever since you found me that very first day. I feel like I’m always scared and you’re always brave. I hoped you’d lead me here, too. But you never did. And everytime I worked up the courage to say something, it just...fell through. It was never the right time. I was never in the right place. And it was like you were looking at everyone else but me. I understand. I’m not really anything special. Like Jupiter, remember? And you’re the sun.”

Kiyoomi was looking at him with all the heartbreak Atsumu never wanted to see. Neither of them bothered wiping their tears.

“I’ve been trying to let it go all these years. You had Suna, and so many others, and then you had Kitiara. But damn it, Atsumu, I saw you first. You said I’ll always be your favorite person, but you lied.”

He wanted to pause time. Just for a minute. He just needed a minute to process everything. Maybe rewrite everything he thought he knew in his mind. But Kiyoomi was still talking. Still intent on breaking his heart.

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Kiyoomi said, wiping at his face. “None of this really matters now, I know that. But… I’ve been driving myself crazy hating myself for loving you. I don’t want to anymore. You’re starting a new life without me, but I just had to let you know somehow. I know this isn’t the right place or the right time, but I couldn’t let one more moment slip away. If this is the only chance I have, then just this once, Atsumu, let me tell you that I love you. I’ve kept it in for too long, the feeling is threatening to kill me.”

Atsumu whispered, “Is this what you’re been wanting to tell me lately?” 

Kiyoomi looked down. “No. I…There’s something else.” He took a deep breath and looked back up. “Atsu, I didn’t renew my contract with the Jackals.”

“What?”

“I’m leaving,” Kiyoomi whispered. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure when to tell you. I knew you’d get upset if I put it off for too long, but I didn’t want to ruin your big day. But I guess it doesn’t matter now. You already hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“But you couldn’t love me.”

Atsumu looked at him, heartbroken. _But I do,_ his heart screamed.

“Not anymore,” Kiyoomi said with a broken smile. “Maybe, back then...but it’s too late. We missed it. And one day, I’ll learn to be okay with that, but right now I — I need to get away from you. Again.” He took a step back.

Atsumu took a step forward.

“Let me go,” Kiyoomi said softly. “You’ll be just fine without me.”

He took another step back and this time Atsumu didn’t follow.

Kiyoomi turned away. “Goodbye, Atsumu.”

Atsumu watched him disappear into the night. He didn’t move for a very long time.

**Chapter 26**

“Shit,” Suna said, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. He was clutching a bottle of wine against him like a teddy bear.

Atsumu couldn’t even speak.

They were still in the function room where the dinner rehearsal took place, only it was empty of people except for him and Suna.

“So, you know it’s not too late, right? You can still change your mind.”

Atsumu turned his head to stare at his best friend. “Yes, it is, Rin.”

“Atsumu. After all this time…”

“It’s too late. I can’t get off this train, Rin. And there’s just too many shitty things to process —” He groaned, clawing at his hair. “Why now?”

“So what, you’re gonna marry her?”

“Of course I’m gonna marry her!”

“Damn it, Tsumu!” Suna slammed a palm on the table. Startled, he could only stare. Suna never got angry, never. “You can’t just settle. And she deserves better than a husband who’ll always love her second.”

“She could make me happy. She does make me happy.”

“That’s fucking selfish, and you know it. And I know you could be happy with her, Tsumu, but I also know you could be happier. This...this just doesn’t feel right.”

He rubbed his hands on his face. “Look, Rin, she was there for me through it all. She saved me. She makes me want to be better. Isn’t that good?”

“It is, it really is. And maybe if you got married two years ago, I’d support you all the way. But things are different now, don’t you see? Things have changed.”

Atsumu slumped, pressing his forehead on the table. “When am I going to be free of him?”

“That’s not what you want, and you know it.” Suna sighed. “You know, I really don’t understand, Tsumu. You had all the time in the world. You had a goddamn lifetime. Why aren’t you and Omi together?”

“We just keep missing chances. I don’t know, Rin. It’s just not meant to be. I’m getting married tomorrow. Everything's in place, everything’s planned, that’s it.” _And Kiyoomi’s leaving again_ , his brain reminded him. He wasn’t ready for that goodbye.

Suna stared at him. “You are the stupidest person on the planet,” He shook his head. “Whatever, I don’t care. We’re too damn old for me to still be taking care of you. If this explodes in your face, at least I’ll get front row seats.”

With that, Suna got up. But right before he walked out the room, he looked back. “Tsumu, are you doing this because you love her or because you owe her?”

And Atsumu couldn’t answer that.

He walked home slowly, feeling wrung out. His mind was scattered, his heart was in pieces, and he was tired. He was so tired.

When he reached their living room, his mother was there sniffling while his father comforted her, rubbing her arm. They looked up when he entered and he bowed his head.

“I am so sorry.” It was all he could say.

“We’re not the ones you should be apologizing to,” his father said sternly. “Fix this, Atsumu.”

Where would he even begin to do that? Everything was a mess. When he saw Osamu nursing a beer in their room, he decided he had to start here.

Osamu looked up when Atsumu appeared in the doorway, then reached down to pick up another on the floor and offered it wordlessly.

Sighing, Atsumu approached and sat down beside him on the bed, grabbing the drink.

“That was a mess,” Osamu commented.

“You’re telling me.”

“I’ve been going about it all wrong,” Osamu said idly. “I forgot you hated it when I questioned your choices. I still know you better than anyone, but it feels like we’re out of sync, you know? If I started by saying sorry, would this have gone better?”

“I dunno. There was a lot to unpack. Families are messy, aren’t they?”

“Even messier when you’re twins, I suppose.”

“Yeah.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Osamu take a swig. He took a sip from his own.

Then Osamu took a deep breath. “Remember how Granny used to tell us that you're the sun, and I'm the moon?”

He nodded. Then he remembered Kiyoomi telling him the same thing earlier, and his heart broke a little more.

“That's how it's always been, hasn't it? You’re the bright one, and I follow in your shadow. You’re my brother, Atsumu, and I love you. But do you know how absolutely shitty it is to grow up being compared to you every damn day?”

Eyes already tearing up at the unexpected pain brought about by the words, he turned to look at his twin.

“Remember how everyone used to mistake us for the other, but when we grew up everyone was confessing to you? Remember when all the attention wasn't enough for you, and you had to steal everything of mine — my food, my clothes, my toys? You always had to have everything, and I accepted that. That was just how you were. And I was fine with that because I had you. My best friend, my partner. But then...there was suddenly Omi-kun.”

Osamu gulped down the rest of his beer, then powered through. “I know it was selfish of me to go after him, especially because I knew you loved him first. But I loved him, too, and for once I just wanted to have something of my own. I wanted to win. But for all that Omi loved me, I just wasn’t enough. I was his best friend, and we did everything together. But he was always looking at you. And you didn't even see!” Osamu let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “You didn’t see. And I didn’t want to tell you, because then I’d lose my chance. It was fucking selfish. And I didn’t feel bad back then, I really wasn’t the least bit sorry. In fact, I was angry with you, righteously so, because you were hurting him. You have no idea what you put him through, and I was the one who was there through it all, okay? I wasn’t going to leave him when he needed me. But I guess that made it worse. And as time passed, I don’t know. I started to feel like I came across something bigger than me. I don’t believe in fate or destiny or that kind of shit, but I thought maybe...just maybe, you were made for each other. You — you understood each other in ways I never did and never would.”

Osamu looked over at him, eyes filled with tears. “I didn’t mean to break us, Atsumu. But you were wrong, it was never meant to be the three of us. It was just meant to be the two of you. And I guess...I was afraid of being the one who’ll be left behind, so I held on too tightly to him. But it just fucked everything up. I’m sorry.”

Atsumu was crying now. “How could you think you’ll ever be left behind? You go where I go, don’t you? And I never wanted to go anywhere you couldn’t follow.”

“But you did.”

“And I still called you first to tell you I was engaged. And now here we are.”

They gave each other trembling smiles. Atsumu slung an arm over Osamu’s shoulders and pulled. “Stupid Samu. I’m sorry, too. You were right, I was a damn coward. I only have myself to blame, but it was easier to hate you.”

Osamu started sobbing against his chest, and a pained kind of fondness washed over him. Of the two of them, Atsumu was undoubtedly the more emotional one, which makes Osamu’s moments of weakness even more glaring. It was never easy for him to see Osamu genuinely upset, and that apparently remains true to this day.

He ruffled his hair. “Stop being a baby. We’re fine. We’ve yelled out all that needed to be yelled out I think.”

Osamu pulled away, sniffling and wiping at his face. “There’s one more, but I know you wouldn’t appreciate it. I’ll just trust that you know what you’re doing, Tsumu.”

He groaned and rubbed his face. “You’re right, I don’t want to hear it.” He stood up and stretched. “I’m going to cry myself to sleep. Big day tomorrow.”

**Chapter 27**

June 1 turned out to be the perfect day to get married. The sun was bright and clear, the air was pleasantly cool, the birds were chirping.

The stylists did his hair first, and then applied some light makeup. When he finally slipped into his tux, time started moving terrifyingly fast. The clock seemed to move double-time. Tick-tocking its way to an ending he suddenly wasn’t ready to see.

 _Deep breaths_. In and out. In a minute, everything was going to change.

He smoothed down his tux, the satin a comforting touch against his trembling hands. He stared at himself in the mirror, then at the clock, and ordered his legs to move. He was going to have to take that step himself because no one else could do it for him.

With one final breath, he left the dressing room and walked to the garden. It truly was a beautiful day, accentuated by the cream chiffon hanging on the arbor, the yellow chrysanthemums and white daisies that lined the aisle, and the rustic wooden chairs forming neat rows on the grass. The guests were already settled on their seats and they watched him step up onto the altar. He accepted their stares with as much grace as he could.

He felt a presence behind him and he turned to look at his best man. Suna looked pained, mournful, and Atsumu was suddenly on edge.

“What is it?” he asked.

Suna leaned in and whispered, “He’s not here.”

His stomach dropped. “Where…” 

“Osamu just found out and told me. Tsumu, Omi’s leaving. He’s catching a train to the airport.”

He croaked out, “Going where?”

“I don’t know,” Suna said, frustrated. “What’s it matter? He’s going _away from you_.”

Atsumu shut his eyes briefly, taking more deep breaths, trying to center himself. He already knew Kiyoomi was leaving. But he thought he’d at least attend the wedding, he thought he’d still be able to talk to him one last time. “I can’t do anything about it now.”

Suna looked like he wanted to protest, but they were interrupted by the sound of the classic wedding march.

He turned to watch his bride walk towards him. Kitiara was beautiful. This was their big day — this was supposed to be their happiest day. He faked a smile and didn’t even have to force out the tears, because it was the easiest thing to do to let them out. He felt like he was dying. He felt like he was falling apart.

More than anything, he wanted to run out and chase down Kiyoomi.

This was a mistake.

He wanted to call off the wedding. He wanted to put an end to the nightmare. He wanted to run away, to turn back time, back to the very beginning.

But it was too late.

They’ve run out of time. 

Fortunately or unfortunately, he was used to pushing things down and going through the motions. He was able to hold it together through the ceremony, answering the officiator when prompted.

But he’d miscalculated. He didn’t realize it, but it was one of those moments where he underestimated his feelings for Kiyoomi again. It turned out Kiyoomi still had the same vice grip on his heart, and the thought of him leaving _right now_ had him shaken, off-balanced.

So when it was time for his vows, he couldn’t be faulted for saying, “I, Atsumu, take you, Kiyoomi —”

There were gasps and then deafening silence. Shamefully, it took him an entire two seconds to realize what he’d said and why Kitiara’s grip on his hand was suddenly tight enough to break bones.

His heart fell to his stomach, and his mind kicked into overdrive, trying to figure how to _fix it, fix it, damn it, fix it!_

“K-Kitiara, sorry, I meant —”

Kitiara ripped her hands away from his hold. She looked shocked, offended. “I cannot believe…”

“Kit, wait —”

“Oh my god,” he heard Suna mutter from behind him. “Is this happening?”

He shut his eyes. Holy fucking shit. Was he really ruining his own wedding in front of all his friends and family? He opened his eyes and risked a glance at their audience. Everyone had expressions ranging from surprise to fury.

“I should have known,” Kitiara finally said. “I _did_ know.”

“Kit —”

She raised a hand and he shut his mouth. “Tell me, Atsumu. Tell me you did not mean to say his name just then. Tell me you weren’t thinking of him.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. How does he explain that he was just _distracted_? He felt like he was still reeling from a bomb.

Taking his silence as his answer, Kitiara laughed sardonically and shook her head. _“_ It was always Kiyoomi for you, wasn’t it? Omi this, Omi that. _‘Sorry, Kit, I can’t make it to dinner because Omi is sick.’_ Or, _‘Kit, let’s not go to that restaurant, because Omi doesn’t like it.’_ Or, _‘Don’t call me Atsu because that’s Omi’s nickname for me.’_ And my personal favorite, _‘I like your hair, it’s curly like Omi’s.’_ Don’t think I don’t realize that our physical similarities don’t end there, Tsumu.”

He couldn’t speak. There was no denying it.

In a softer voice, Kitiara said, “I thought maybe, when he left, you’d see me for me. And for a while back there, I was convinced that you did. I finally felt like you loved me, Atsumu, and not like I was just a placeholder for him. But he just had to come back, didn’t he?” 

“He didn’t do it with bad intentions.”

“Oh, you’re defending him even now? Even _right now_ , Atsumu? You are so hard to believe. Of course, your precious _Omi_ could do no wrong. But why’d he do it then? Of all the teams, he just had to move from Tokyo to Osaka? Why? The Jackals had cleaner apartments?” she asked sarcastically. “And how strange that he popped up right after we engaged. Don’t you just find that so fucking strange, Atsumu?”

“I —”

She cut him off with a sigh, hand reaching up to massage her temple. “I should have known I was losing you the moment you came home smiling, talking about how _Omi_ was in the tryouts. You were acting like he never broke you heart, like you never drove yourself to the ground until you had a goddamn _mental breakdown_ because of him and your stupid _twin_. I had to hear about how _‘shitty’_ they were all these years and yet all it took was one day to change everything? I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t want to see it. You loved me. You had to love me, right?”

Kitiara was crying now. She was so beautiful. It wasn’t right that she was crying. It wasn’t right that he’d hurt her like this. Not after everything she’d done for Atsumu.

Heart aching, he whispered, “I do love you.”

“So what, you just love him more?”

The question stilled him. The word _‘no’_ was at the tip of his tongue, but it refused to come out.

Kitiara was looking at him at him almost pleadingly. “ _Answer me_. I need you to make a _choice_ , Atsumu. I love you. And I can forgive this, one day. He’s not here, and I am. Do you still want to do this?”

He opened his mouth. The right thing to say would be _‘Yes, I’ll make it up to you. You deserve better than a shitstain like me.’_

But nothing came out.

Kitiara shut her eyes briefly. She whispered, “Do you want to put an end to this.”

He started crying. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Kit.”

She nodded and sniffled. “Alright. Then I’m leaving you, Atsumu, for real this time. You were the worst thing to ever happen to me. But I truly hope you find happiness.”

“Kit, wait,” he sobbed out.

“No, Atsumu. No more. Whatever hold I had on you was broken the moment he showed up. Because unlike mine, his hold on you is unbreakable. Do me a favor and just — get him already, will you? So you both can stop hurting everyone else.”

With that, she turned and walked back up the aisle, back straight, and head held up high.

And then, she was gone.

And then, pandemonium.

Kitiara’s parents started screaming, the crowd started talking loudly to themselves, disbelieving. He heard Meian say, “Of course he’d do this, of course...”

Almost all the guests from Kitiara’s side of the family hurried out, probably intent on comforting her. But her parents were still yelling at Atsumu’s parents who were trying to appease them.

“Okay, can we all just calm down?” his father said above the noise and they all quieted. “Look, the wedding won’t be pushing through, that’s clear. There is no use for fighting, we need to figure out how to clean up the damage.”

“My daughter is the one who suffered the most damage,” Kitiara’s mother hissed, narrowing her eyes at Atsumu. “I knew it, I always knew you were bad for her. You never treated her the way she deserved.”

“Look, lady,” Suna said. “I was right there with them for most of their relationship, don’t tell us Atsumu was a shitty boyfriend. I mean he’s a shitty person, but he did fine by Kit.”

“Right, and that’s why her wedding day is ruined —”

“The wedding is ruined because it took her this long to admit defeat,” Suna replied, bored. “I get that love makes you blind, but damn. That girl was not blind. She knew from the first day Atsumu loved someone else, but she kept pushing. Stop acting like Kit is some helpless damsel, she’s smart and she knew what she was doing. And risking.”

Everyone stared at Suna, speechless. Atsumu appreciated it, he did, but he wished Suna would shut up now.

And then Kitiara’s parents started mouthing off again, and this time Atsumu’s parents were angerier and they were yelling right back. The guests were starting to stand up, talking feverishly amongst themselves, and Atsumu just wanted some _peace_.

And then Osamu was there, grabbing him by the lapels of his tux. Eyes determined, he said, “Tsumu. You can still catch him, but you’ll have to run. I searched the train schedules, the next one isn’t until 11 a.m.. It’s 10:40, and it’s cutting it close, but _you have_ _time_.”

“Samu,” he said. Sudden terror was keeping his feet firmly planted on the ground. “I can’t —”

Osamu shook him, hard. “Can’t what,” he snapped. “I don’t get it! I really don’t get it! If you love him then —”

Suna appeared from behind Osamu, a calming presence amid the storm. “Atsumu, just go.”

“What if —”

“Stop with the damn what-ifs,” Osamu ground out. “You can find out yourself.”

In a steady, no-nonsense tone, Suna said, “You told me yesterday you kept missing chances. You said you just weren’t fated, or whatever. Since when did you believe in that? You sound like a fucking coward to me.” Then he softened. “He’s waited long enough for you, don’t you think? He doesn’t know it but he’s waiting for you now. Can you really deny him?”

He thought of Kiyoomi, who left for Tokyo to get away from him, but joined the Black Jackals anyway. He thought of the little boy who used to hide behind him, who followed Atsumu everywhere, no matter how grumpy he pretended to be. He was always reaching for him, but Atsumu kept straying away too far.

Not anymore, he decided.

He took off down the aisle and right out through the doors.

**Chapter 28**

The clock was ticking again but he was running out of time, he always felt like he was running out of goddamn time when it came to Kiyoomi. Why was that? At this point in their lives, they knew each other longer than the time they didn’t. Fourteen years. After this long, why did he have to chase him?

Maybe because he never did before. Kiyoomi was the one thing he kept letting slip through his fingers. _‘I feel like I keep missing you,’_ Kiyoomi had said. They’ve been so stupid. What were they thinking, just leaving it to fate? They knew more than anyone that they had to work for the things they wanted. Neither of them even tried. Unspoken words, secret glances, stolen moments — so many goddamn chances. But they kept missing each one. Were they ever on the same goddamn page? Must they always be stuck in the middle place?

Atsumu was terrified, but he was more terrified of the possibility that if he missed this chance, he’d lose it all. If Kiyoomi took that train now, who knows where he’ll end up? Who knows if he’ll ever let Atsumu in again? Last time he left from that very same station, Atsumu didn’t see him for four years.

He ran faster. The wind whipped past his face as he reached more familiar streets that he knew like the back of his hand. By the time he whipped past the store where they first met, he was crying.

He was an idiot who’d left his phone in the dressing room, so he couldn’t even call Kiyoomi. He didn’t know what time it was. There was a crowd in the station and he kept rushing around, frazzled and panicked. Fuck, it had been so long since he’d gone home. He let muscle memory lead the way and hoped he was heading in the right direction.

When he reached the platform, it was empty of people, and a train on the other side was leaving. He looked at the clock: 11 a.m.

His stomach dropped. He was on the wrong side, and he just missed him. He wanted to punch something. He wanted to cry.

And then the last of the carriages gave way and there on the opposite platform was Kiyoomi.

Startled, they stared at each other.

Atsumu’s tattered heart started beating faster. And then faster. Hoarsely, he called out, “Stay there. Fuck, Omi, just _stay there_!”

Then he turned and ran. He flew down the stairs and tried to remember how to get to the other side. The crowd was frustrating him. He went out, intent on rounding the damn station to take the other entrance.

Then he stopped in his tracks. There, standing outside with his bag discarded on the ground, was Kiyoomi.

He was crying again. He was frozen in place, and he was looking at Atsumu the way he used to when he needed saving. He looked like he’d gone as far as he could and he was needing Atsumu to take rest of the steps.

And Atsumu did. He took one slow step after another, because he was starting to realize that all roads were leading to Kiyoomi. Was it fate that led him to find that lost little boy in the street? It didn’t matter. This time, it was a choice.

“Why are you crying?” he asked softly when he was close enough. He couldn’t help himself. His lips threatened to smile.

“I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t do it. I wanted to leave, but you weren’t with me. I couldn’t do it.”

Just like that, all traces of humor left him. His eyes welled up with fresh tears. He stopped right in front of him. “I wanted to marry her, but I couldn’t do it either. Guess we’re both stupid idiots.”

Kiyoomi seemed to realize what had happened. “You didn’t —?”

“How could I? After the bomb you dropped on me last night?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t intend for this to happen.”

Atsumu chuckled wetly. “If we try to find who’s at fault, we’ll be playing the blame game our whole life. Just — it’s done. She’s...gone.” The realization pricked at his heart. “And I’m here.”

“You’re here,” Kiyoomi marveled. “Atsu, what does this mean?”

“It means that,” he faltered, a sudden rush of emotion making his voice break. “It means that I owe you a confession. Eight years in the making. Maybe even longer.”

Kiyoomi’s lips started to tremble and Atsumu didn’t know if he could survive this, but he had to. He owed it to both of them.

“When I was nine, I met my first real friend,” he began softly. “And when I was thirteen, he became my first crush. And when we were fifteen, he became my first love. It’s always been you, Omi-Omi. And you left me, but I kept a part of you with me because I’m forever unable to let you go. You occupy a part of me no one could ever touch. I’m sorry I kept running, but I’m here now. Sakusa Kiyoomi, I’m in love with you. Please...please. Give me a chance. I could no longer stand the feeling of being without you.”

Kiyoomi bowed his head and started to sob.

“Is the thought of being with me so despicable?” Atsumu joked half-heartedly. Then he cradled Kiyoomi’s face with trembling hands and wiped away the tears with his thumbs. “Hey, stop crying. I’m sorry it took so long, I’m sorry for everything I put you through. I’ve been such an idiot.”

“Me, too.” Kiyoomi sniffled.

“We made quite a mess, huh? Why was it so hard to get here?”

“Because you’re a blind fucking idiot.”

“Me? And what about you? You couldn’t have said something sooner?”

“When, exactly? When you were having that gross thing with Rin? When you were in a serious five-year relationship with some girl?”

“For the last time, her name is Kitiara. And you were the one who kissed Ushiwaka. You kissed _Samu_!”

Kiyoomi rolled his eyes. “Seriously? It was a dare! _God_. You’re impossible.”

“ _You’re_ impossible. You’re the one who was so intent on running away —”

“I wasn’t running away —”

“So why the hell were you on the way to the airport, huh? You couldn’t wait for me? I was always headed to you, damn it!”

“Were you? And how was I supposed to know that? A few minutes ago, you were so ready to promise your life to another person!”

“I’ve made mistakes, okay, I’ve made many mistakes and trying to push through with the wedding was one of those. But the biggest was not telling you that I loved you sooner.”

“How much?”

“The _most_ , okay? You’re the love of my goddamn existence. Can we fucking let the past go now? We’re starting over. Right now.”

“But if we start over, then we’ll forget all the good parts, too.” Kiyoomi smiled at him and it was like he reached out and squeezed Atsumu’s heart with his fist.

“You’re right.” He reached up and thumbed at the corner of his upturned lips. “Fourteen years is too much to erase. I barely remember my life before you.”

“Stop exaggerating. You were nine, not an infant.”

“I am _trying_ to be romantic here.”

Kiyoomi looked like he was trying not to laugh at him and Atsumu hated him sometimes, he really did. He insisted, “Seriously. If you cut up my life story into pieces it would just be you in the start, the middle, and the end. The last one’s too soon to claim, but I’m claiming it.”

“And I’m supposed to believe that, am I? After everything you put me through? Your whore phase was the goddamn worst. I hate you, Atsumu.”

He winced. He was never living that down. “I’m _sorry_. Can’t you just let me — confess properly? Why does everything have to be so damn difficult with you, huh?”

Kiyoomi pursed his lips, trying to tamp down on the smile. “Okay. Start over.”

Atsumu groaned, rubbing his hands across his face. “I _love_ you. Please end my _misery_.” He was trembling. He was about to scream in frustration.

There was a chuckle then Kiyoomi gripped his wrists and pulled them away. Then he leaned closer and brushed his lips against Atsumu’s. He whispered, “Okay.”

The touch was light, barely there, but it was like someone slammed a button in Atsumu’s soul and he was suddenly _alive_ , flooded with want and desire and overwhelming love. He pressed closer, needing more, and he thought he was going to shake apart when Kiyoomi caught his bottom lip in between his. He gasped and clutched the back of his neck, tugging him closer, closer. Until the space between them was nonexistent. Finally bridged, after years of circling each other and running from each other; after tears and laughter, pain and joy.

They were meant to be here.

When they separated, they were both breathless. Kiyoomi watched him with bright eyes and lifted up a hand to wipe his tears. “You know, I used to think you were the strongest person ever, but you’re just a crybaby, aren’t you?”

Atsumu stared at him. Then he started laughing, tears leaking from his eyes, proving Kiyoomi right. “Unbelievable. You’re unbelievable.”

“And I’m getting tired of standing around here.”

“Let’s go home?” he asked tentatively. “Come with me?”

Kiyoomi looked at him with narrowed eyes. “If I do, then I’ll be the only one from now on. No more sleeping with Rin, even if we break up temporarily. And if you try to marry another person again —”

He started laughing again. He couldn’t help it. Kiyoomi was truly ridiculous, why did he love this man so much? “Omi-Omi. I’ve always been yours. And you’ve always been mine, ever since I found you. I don’t care what Samu says, I saw you first. Let’s go home.”

He held out a trembling hand, palm up. For a split second, he was terrified that Kiyoomi wouldn’t take it, but familiar fingers curled around his, firm and sure. “Stupid Atsu. Don’t know why I keep following you.”

Smiling, he started tugging them down the familiar road. Feeling suddenly free and playful, he swung their arms as they walked, laughing at Kiyoomi’s long-suffering sigh. It felt like Kiyoomi was eight again and he was nine, but they weren’t. They were 23.

He supposed some things would never change.

**Chapter 29**

They didn’t go home, because they weren’t ready to face the mess they’ve made. Inexplicably, they found themselves making the familiar walk to the Cemetery. Where else would they go?

“Remember the last time we were biking here?” he asked Kiyoomi. “You said you were like Jupiter. You said that too yesterday.”

“It’s true. I was just doomed to orbit around you for all of eternity. I wasn’t big or bright enough to match you. I wasn’t surprised you went for Kit. I hate her, but I suppose she was something.”

“You’re wrong, you know. Even if you’re Jupiter, I don't give a shit about the rest of the universe. In my solar system you're the biggest planet, alright?”

“You’ll have to prove it.”

“I will.”

Kiyoomi smiled. They strayed to conversations they’ve had many times before, idly stepping on fallen leaves in hopes of hearing them crack, acting like they had no care in the world. They walked hand-in-hand, terrified of letting go.

Eventually, they circled back to more painful topics.

“When you left for Tokyo, did you get better? Did you let me go?”

Kiyoomi hummed. “I tried. I already decided that I would. I was never going to have a chance and it made me feel sick. I accepted that I was too late, and decided that I wasn’t going to get in the way.”

“But you came to the Black Jackals.”

“You were engaged. You didn’t even tell me, I found out through social media. And I just — panicked. I told myself I’d tell you everything. But when I joined the team, we were friends again, and we were doing so well on the court...it was a risk. I told myself I’d let it go, for real this time. I didn’t even want to go to the wedding, but I thought I could be mature about the whole thing. It was your big day, I wanted to be there regardless. I don’t know why I read that letter. One last rebellious act, I suppose.”

Atsumu laughed at that. “I can’t believe you, Omi-Omi, declaring your love for me in front of everyone like that.”

“Well, I did owe you a confession. I should have said something earlier. I kept forcing myself to. But I couldn’t. Except one time.”

He frowned. “What? When?”

“Remember when you drunk called me? I told you I was in love with you and then you puked.”

He stopped in his tracks. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’m not,” he said, amused.

Atsumu wanted to know more about that, but there was one thing he needed to know more. He was ready to listen. “Would you tell me about Osamu?”

Kiyoomi’s expression turned pained. “Osamu was...he confused me a lot. I liked you, but you were suddenly with Rin and I didn’t even know you liked guys. You let me find out like that. I figured it was my punishment so I just took it but...it was like my chance was ripped from me before I even had it. You didn’t even let me breathe. After Rin, you had — everyone else, and then you were with _her_ and...Osamu was there for me. He...confessed. And even when I turned him down, he didn’t want to leave me. And it was selfish, but I needed my best friend. I wanted to love him so much. But my heart was already off the market a long, long time ago. I didn’t want to hurt him, but I did. So I — when I left, I left him, too.”

They really fucked up, didn’t they? He could barely comprehend the scope of his mistakes. Was everyone just hurting all this time? He didn’t know who he’d hurt the most. There was Kitiara, of course — he was going to have to face their separation eventually, when she inevitably moved out of their apartment. He was a shitty person.

But right now, there was someone else in front of him whom he also owed a million apologies. “I am so sorry, Omi-Omi.”

Kiyoomi shrugged. “It’s over and done with. Things can only get better from here, right? I mean, it can’t possibly get any worse.”

“I’ll make sure that everything’s right. It doesn’t matter anymore, we’re here now. And we have all the time in the world to pick apart what went wrong and figure out how to fix whatever is still broken. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“I choose this.” He needed Kiyoomi to know this. He’ll answer for all of his mistakes, but for now, this was the most important part.

Kiyoomi smiled. “Okay. Me, too.” He squeezed Atsumu’s hand.

They continued walking, silently now.

And then, when they reached the cemetery, they stopped.

Osamu was sitting on the ground in their secret hideout, all alone. He blinked at them, confused.

Unsure, they all looked at each other. Then Atsumu sighed and started walking towards him. Kiyoomi followed.

“You’re here,” he stated.

Osamu shrugged. “Where else would I go?”

A lump started to build in his throat. They sat down, completing the circle, and crossed their legs.

After a few minutes of silence, he said, “So. Once again, we made a mess.”

Kiyoomi said, “It’s always the two of you, isn’t it.”

“Are you forgetting the fact that you’re at the center of it all?”

“I never asked for that role. You didn’t even tell me I had that role.”

“We’re really sorry, Omi-kun,” Osamu said, ashamed. “ _I’m_ sorry. I made your life a lot harder, huh?”

“Yeah, well,” Kiyoomi glanced at him, face softening. “What are best friends for?”

Osamu looked like he was about to start crying again.

Atsumu declared, “We were overly emotional teenagers, I think we should get a pass. It’s all over anyway. Now we clean up.”

Osamu nodded. He glanced at their clasped hands. “Congrats. Really.”

“Hug it out,” Kiyoomi ordered.

They rolled their eyes but obeyed, shuffling on their knees to reach each other. Then Atsumu reached out and dragged Kiyoomi into the hug.

He didn’t know who started crying first.

He will forever deny that it was him.

**Chapter 30**

They returned to Miya home that afternoon and it was akin to a walk of shame. When they entered, someone popped a confetti and people cheered.

“I fucking hate you guys,” Atsumu complained.

When the confetti died down, he took a look at their visitors: his guests for the disastrous wedding.

And their parents.

Kiyoomi hid behind him, like the shitty person he was.

He cleared his throat and they all looked at him expectantly. “Omi and I are together now.”

They cheered again. Suna was cackling. “Finally.”

“Only took you fourteen goddamn years,” Osamu said from behind them.

Ginjima said, “I just want to say that if I knew there were _feelings_ before, I never would have dared Sakusa to kiss Osamu —”

“No, it’s not your fault,” Aran assured him. “They’re just idiots. I saw this coming a mile away.”

“Congratulations,” Kita said, because he was an angel. “Unfortunate that you had to break many hearts just to get to this point.” Nevermind, he was the devil.

“I still don’t get it,” Bokuto admitted.

“Yeah, you owe us all one hell of a story,” Hinata said, pouting.

Kiyoomi tugged on the back of his shirt. “Can’t we leave?”

Atsumu fished him out from behind him. “No. I see cake.”

“Yeah, it’s your wedding cake,” his mother said. “It was a waste, so…”

Suna started laughing again.

Kiyoomi’s parents approached him and he gulped. Kanna patted his cheek. “I should have known. It’s always been you.”

Kenji took his hand and shook it. “You’ve grown into a fine man. I’m glad. I hope you’re still looking out for that elbow. I told you, once it’s dislocated...”

“It’s easy to dislocate it again, yes, don’t worry, Kenji-san.”

“Let’s leave,” Kiyoomi whispered to him.

“ _No_.”

They should have just left, because his friends forced Atsumu to cut the cake like he would have in his reception. He truly hated them sometimes.

“It’s practice for your next one,” Suna said. “I get to be the best man again, right?”

“Keep running your mouth and you won’t even get an invite.”

“We’ll elope,” Kiyoomi said. “I don’t want any more shitty weddings.”

“Good idea,” he said.

“No eloping,” his mother said. “You owe us all a nice, proper wedding after everything you put us through. But for now, let’s pretend. After all, Kiyoomi’s name was what you said back there.”

“You did _what_?” Kiyoomi asked, eyebrows raised.

His cheeks flooded with heat. “Nothing,” he said quickly.

“I have videos,” Suna said, ever helpful.

He sighed in defeat as everyone laughed again. They were downright mocking him at this point but he supposed he deserved it for dragging them all into his hometown for a wedding he ruined. Deciding to let them have their fun, he cut the cake, Kiyoomi snickering beside him. He stopped being amused when they were forced to do that thing where they drank champagne with their arms crossed.

When the party was in full swing, he went around the room, apologizing for all the trouble.

Foster shook his head at him and Kiyoomi. “I cannot...I cannot even comprehend what you’ve done. You two…” he seemed to run out of words.

Meian, who was standing beside their coach, also seemed unsure of what to say. “Was this what it was about? The great breakdown of 2014? Or was it 2015?”

“Both,” Inunaki supplied. “He was generally very emo and dramatic during those years.”

Sensing Kiyoomi’s confusion, he muttered to him, “I’ll tell you later.” He wasn’t looking forward to it.

When he dragged his feet to finally face Suna, who was already smirking, he said, “Alright already.”

“Can I say it?”

“Fine,” he gritted out.

“I told you so!” Suna said gleefully. “I fucking told you so. Hah!”

Kiyoomi snickered again and Atsumu glared at him, betrayed.

In a more serious tone, Suna said, “So...what’re ya gonna do about Kit?”

His mood dropped. He sighed. “I’ll...I doubt she’ll see me, so I’ll call her. We have things to settle. And her parents…” He grimaced. “Fuck. I feel shitty for being so happy.”

“You’re allowed to feel a lot of things at once,” Suna said.

“When did you get so wise, huh?”

“Unrequited love ages you.” Suna raised an eyebrow at him and smirked again, flicking his eyes to his twin, no doubt.

“Still, Rin?”

Suna just shrugged wordlessly and sauntered off.

Kiyoomi looked flummoxed when he finally glanced at him. He whispered, “Suna and Samu?”

“Yeah,” he said a little sadly. Some people don’t get a happy ending, and that’s just life. The reminder made him want to clutch Kiyoomi closer to him and never let him go.

Later that night, Osamu took off to sleep over at Aran’s. Atsumu slipped under the covers of Osamu’s bed — his top bunk was not meant to hold two grown male athletes at the same time and he was avoiding further injuries. And then he waited.

Kiyoomi came out of the bathroom wearing Atsumu’s clothes. When he reached the bed, he paused. They watched each other, the air suddenly charged.

And then Kiyoomi slipped under the sheets and into Atsumu’s arms. The electricity ebbed away to give way to warmth, and they sighed as they curled around each other. Atsumu started combing his fingers through Kiyoomi’s hair, the way he used to do when they were younger.

“Did today really happen, Omi-Omi?”

Kiyoomi bit Atsumu’s cheek, the dull pain startling him.

“ _Ow_ , what’s wrong with you?” he asked, amazed.

“It’s all real,” Kiyoomi informed him.

Laughing, Atsumu hugged him closer, tucking his head under his chin to keep him safe and still. He ran his hands down his back, awash with quiet awe. “Finally,” he sighed. He thought he could cry at the feeling. “Finally.”

“There’s so many things I want to tell you,” Kiyoomi said quietly. “But I think I’m just not good with talking. It’s all in the letter anyway.”

He paused. He had stashed that away the previous night and haven’t looked at it since.

Kiyoomi drew away to look at him. “You didn’t look at it, did you?”

“I thought it was the same thing you read out!” he protested. “I couldn’t bear to go through that speech again.”

Kiyoomi smirked. “I filtered through it when I was reading. No way I was going to expose my bleeding heart to everyone that night. What do you think of me?”

“I mean, you kind of did exactly that…” He laughed when Kiyoomi wrinkled his nose.

Atsumu kissed him on the forehead, once, twice, thrice.

“Go to sleep,” he said, when he found the strength to pull away. He caressed Kiyoomi’s cheek. “Dream of me, will ya?”

“It will be a nightmare,” Kiyoomi said flatly. Then, when he was settled against Atsumu chest, he whispered, “I already do.”

He waited until Kiyoomi was asleep before he slipped out of bed and retrieved the letter. He unfolded it — it was two pages, not one. Heart pounding, he started to read, and he very quickly realized Kiyoomi had been filtering from the very first paragraph.

“Dear Atsumu,

Today, you’re starting a new life. I can’t say I ever imagined you married, because my mind is unable to comprehend that there is someone in the world who could stand you and all that comes with you...and that said someone isn't me.

This whole thing has been a struggle for me to comprehend — the entire idea of building a life and home with someone of your choosing. Probably because my life and home were already set in stone years and years ago, when I was eight and you were nine.

I was crying because I was lost in this big new world, but you found me. You said that if I can't find my home, then you’ll take me to yours. And you did. And over time I learned that home isn’t a place, but a collection of memories and feelings that were meant to be fleeting but managed to imprint themselves in me forever. It’s my mother’s katsudon, and my father’s steady hands. It's Suna’s horrid singing, and Osamu’s bear hugs.

And for all the pain and struggles and disagreements that the years battered us with, home will always be the annoyingly bright boy that I followed everywhere — from the walk to school to rollerskating in the rink, to biking to the Cemetery, and even the foray into volleyball. Atsu, I've never been a very expressive person, so I think perhaps you don't know just how much you mean to me. And I could go on and on about how you make me feel too much and too keenly, and how you brighten not just my days but my entire life, but I think I could put it simply by saying I wouldn't be who I am now without you.

Atsu, I want to say that I’m happy for you, but in all reality...I’m heartbroken. Because for once, there is no possibility that I can follow you here. Because this was the road I had been secretly dreaming of taking with you, except you left me behind. I never liked it when you left me behind, and this is no different.

But this is said in all selfishness, because I was always the one who needed you most, to save me from the mean kids in the playground, and to take my hand and help me through it all. You were my hero. You were my most favorite person in the world. And I loved you. And over the years, I learned to love you in many different ways, but being in love with you is a special kind of torment. It's the most painful thing I've ever experienced, but I never want to stop. I want to demand that you love me back, but that's childish, isn't it?

We’re not kids any longer. And as we grew up, I got used to you leaving me behind. You have never needed anyone, that’s just how you are. At least that's what I thought. I eventually realized that maybe you needed someone, but you just didn't need me. No, who you needed was Kitiara. The knowledge tears me apart. Still, it comforts me to know that with Kitiara by your side, I won’t ever have to worry about you being alone. She makes you happy, and that’s enough for me. I know you’ll be just fine. You always are, because you're the strongest person in the world. Even though you're a crybaby.

Maybe in another life, I would have gotten there first, and then maybe I’d be the one who gets to hold your hand, and I’d be the one who’d meet you at the altar. But that would mean I’d have to actually catch your attention first and actually keep it, and I’m just not that special. You’re the one that makes me better. If I soar to great heights, it’s because you’re the wind beneath my wings.

Thank you for everything.

Congratulations on your wedding.

Love, Omi-Omi.”

Tears dripped down on the pages, making the ink bleed.

“Atsu? Why are you crying?” Kiyoomi whispered from the bed.

He leaned against the windowsill and wept. How many times did Kiyoomi have to break his heart? He supposed he deserved this though.

“Atsu. Come here.”

Sniffling, he obeyed. He was engulfed in a hug the moment he reached Kiyoomi.

“You can hold my hand,” Atsumu sobbed out. “And one day we’ll get married and I won’t say the wrong name this time, because you’re the one I want to be with the most. You’re my favorite person. Don’t ever doubt that.”

Kiyoomi smoothed a hand down his hair. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

It was a promise. And Atsumu vowed to himself that he’ll work the hardest to keep it.

**Epilogue**

He was 26 when he finally got it right.

He thought the day of his first wedding was beautiful, but it was nothing compared to his second. It’s early spring, the V. League season has just ended — they won, of course — and it was hell trying to put this together while they were training, but it simply had to happen today.

Because on this day eighteen years ago, he and Kiyoomi met for the first time.

Their parents were actually the ones who handled most of the planning and preparations. The good thing was that they both wanted something smaller and more traditional, so it probably wasn’t too much of a pain. Probably.

His mother was crying.

“Okaasan,” he sighed.

“I’m just so happy,” she said, sniffling. “You look so happy. And to think it was going to be Omi-kun all along. Taichi owes me a couple thousand yen.”

“What does Otosan have to do with this?”

“Oh, we bet that you and Omi-kun would get together one day. He thought you’d get together in your late teens, but I said there’s no way you’re figuring it out until your 20’s. Granted, we thought it was touch and go for a while back there, but life has a way of straightening things out, doesn’t it?”

He stared at her in disbelief. “And you couldn’t have, I don’t know, told me?”

“Oh, darling, some things you simply have to let your children figure out themselves.” She patted his face. “I’m proud of you.”

His mother straightened out the _hakama_ he was wearing. She checked his hair and face one last time then stepped back with a sigh. “Alright. It’s time.”

His father met them in their living room and Atsumu stepped out through the front door. He was greeted by a camera flash from one of two professional photographers they’d hired, and the grinning faces of Suna and the rest of their high school teammates.

The ceremony was going to be held in a nearby shrine, close enough to walk, and it was to be officiated by a Shinto priest. Only their closest families and friends were going to be in attendance. Kiyoomi’s entourage consisted of his parents, Osamu, and Komori, whom he’d touched bases with when he was studying in university. And also the rest of the Jackals — they had played Rock Paper Scissors over who gets which team.

And so, without further ado, they started the procession down his street. He couldn’t help but smile because he was headed to a life-changing moment, but this part felt familiar. How many thousand times did he take these exact steps only to meet Kiyoomi at the end of it?

And without fail, Kiyoomi was there, having come from his own house and walked down his own street. He was wearing a black kimono and a small smile. Atsumu’s heart pounded as he beheld him, thinking that he couldn’t possibly wish for more than this.

He took the last few steps and reached him, and just like that, their paths have finally converged.

“I’ve been waiting forever,” Kiyoomi said.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m here now.”

They walked the rest of the way side by side and Atsumu couldn’t help but think that they were always headed in this direction. Every wrong turn, every bump in the road, every dead end led him here.

Looking at the long road ahead of him, Atsumu did not feel fear. The very first day they met felt like a lifetime ago, and still it was enough — forever wouldn’t be enough. And the rest of their life will be filled with more laughter and fights and victories and slumps, and they'll power through it all together.

He reached beside him and linked their hands together. He smiled at the thought of their future, excited yet serene.

There’s no rush. They have a lifetime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was one line I added in the last minute because Kim told me to listen to "Bawat Daan" by Ebe Dancel after she read the draft. The lyrics go like this:
> 
> "Kung puso ko ay imamapa, ikaw ang dulo, gitna't simula."  
> (If my heart were to be mapped out, you'd be the end, the middle, and the beginning.)
> 
> And while writing this I drew energy and inspiration from many other songs (Kay Tagal Kitang Hinintay), and many random film and tv series scenes (Friends, Love Rosie, none of which I watched), and even books (The Romantic) and god knows what else. I even cracked open my old journals to find emo quotes teenage me had written and a lot of the lines here came from that CAN YOU BELIEVE? When I say I feel like I birthed a child I MEAN IT. I CRIED LIKE A BABY. THANK YOU FOR COMING WITH ME ON THIS JOURNEY. If you must take something away from this fic, it's that sometimes there are things that are hard to swallow but you gotta swallow them because THAT'S LIFE. Also, relationships are complicated
> 
> There'll be a (mostly) fluffy companion fic written in Omi's POV that has the missing moments (sort of), so more cute baby scenes there. And what happens next. I'll post it...soon

**Author's Note:**

> Did I mention my amazing beta, Caahs? She had to deal with my many revisions and my many threats of deleting everything and my many messages of "WAIT I HAVE AN IDEA." This final draft is the third one, the past two might as well be completely different fics. I would also like to thank the Titas of Sakuatsu Bold who willingly read through this monster because I needed fresh eyes. I love you all!
> 
> Come yell at me on Twitter (@lettersinpetals)!


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